


Da Capo al Signo

by midgetnazgul, temporalSilence



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (mostly) bottom Jesse, Anal Sex, Angst, Contemporary AU, Dad Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Domestic Fluff, Families of Choice, First Time, Fluff, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Genji and Hanzo are close, Good Dad Sojiro, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mom Ana Amari, Mutual Pining, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Rimming, Sex Toys, background r76, call it fluff with angst seasoning, cw: discussion of past internalized homophobia, cw: discussion of past sexual repression, cw: discussion of previous self-harm, cw: discussion of previous serious injury, cw: discussion of suicidal ideation, handicapped!musician!Hanzo, handjobs, rancher!Jesse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 01:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 75,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15830943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midgetnazgul/pseuds/midgetnazgul, https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporalSilence/pseuds/temporalSilence
Summary: In music, da capo al signo tells the performer to start over until they see the sign to move on. Life has its movements, too. Even when we must begin again, signs will appear to remind us that just because we feel we are repeating ourselves, we will not necessarily end in the same terrible place we were before.It's 2018 and Jesse and Hanzo are both living in Tucson, AZ on second chances. Hanzo is on the cusp of recognition as a musician after his life in Japan is run aground by a devastating accident, and Jesse has chiseled out a life of purpose and achievement after a rough childhood. Together, they will come to understand how misfortune and loneliness can end, giving gifts they would never have found any other way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I received my assignment for the RBB in May, I was incredibly fortunate to be paired with Cait and her impossibly sweet initial sketch simply of Hanzo in leg braces playing a guitar. Together we got, uh, a little bit out of hand and crafted an entire AU that means the world to both of us. In fact, we came up with far, far too much content for me to fit into one fanfic, even one twelve times longer than the submission guidelines demanded, so in time I would like to revisit this particular Hanzo and Jesse living out in the desert with their friends in a separate collection of vignettes at some point, once I have caught up on my other projects.
> 
> That done, some thank yous:
> 
> \- to Cait, for your incredible patience, emotional investment, unending encouragement, artistic talent, and medical consultation as I took everything absolutely too seriously  
> \- to JoJo, for beta-ing this motherfucker up and down to the wee hours of the morning and helping me keep my goddamn EVERYTHING straight  
> \- to Dee for hosting this event and graciously answering my occasional stupid questions  
> \- to everyone on the RBB and Target Practice servers for their insight, know-how, and encouragement
> 
> Each chapter will have some of the artwork Cait created for the RBB event. PLEASE NOTE CHAPTERS 2 AND 3 HAVE NSFW ART AT THE END. The art for chapters 1, 4, and 5 are SFW, though the content of the chapters themselves are not. You will find additional gorgeous art pieces on the tumblr post for this fic, found on my blog (midgetnazgul) and Cait's (temporalSilence)
> 
> Please enjoy! Cait and I hope you're as fond of this version of Jesse and Hanzo as we are.

               Tucson’s mid-afternoon June sun beat down on a tall, tan man as he stepped out of his car and surveyed his destination: a small, homey-looking bar with an all-season patio. Jesse nudged his way in – after so many years, he shouldn’t be surprised how much the door _still_ stuck at La Tumba – and made his way to a long bar that had been refinished recently right over countless scrapes and scratches of decades worn into the wood’s surface. He took his usual seat three stools off the right and settled in with a contented sigh.

                “Saved for me and everything, how sweet, Gabe,” Jesse opened, tipping his hat to a tall Chicano man at the far end of the bar restocking bottles with a much shorter Mexican woman.

                “Your ass imprint is so fuckin’ permanent, anybody else that tries to sit there slides off,” Gabe sniped, making his companion burst out laughing.

                “Laugh it up, Sombra, Jesus Christ,” Jesse grumbled, shaking his head. “You should hear what he old bastard says about you.”

                “Can’t be worse than what he says when I drop and break something off the top shelf. Usual?” Sombra asked, already fetching a highball.

                “You betcha.”

                “Three or four kinda day?”

                “Three’s fine.”

                He’d come in before the post-work crowd, but his gaze was drawn to the stage at the opposite end, already lit.

                “Sound test? Got a show tonight?”

                “Yeah, new one,” Gabe came over and leant onto his side of the bar across from Jesse.

                “Been a while since you opened your lineup.”

                “Didn’t. He came by and asked. Insisted on an audition. Bastard did his homework and knew Mike left town back in April.”

                “You like ‘em ballsy.”

                “He’s sure as fuck that, I tell you, him and his brother both. They busted in here and Greenie opened with a line about hearing this being the _real_ place to perform rather than the Hotel Congress.”

                “It is.”

                “Hell yeah it is, but comin’ at me like that is just fuckin’ brown-nosing. Studs cut his brother off and was all business, so I gave ‘em a chance. He _is_ good. Sombra knew him by name when I told her. He’s apparently a _thing_ around here. Not that I fuckin’ knew.”

                “’Cause you’re old, _jefe_ ,” Sombra said.

                “Fuck off.”

                Jesse shared a fist bump with Sombra over the bar. A blur in his periphery made him turn back to the stage – a lanky, green-haired man darted here and there, checking cables and fretting over how they laid on the stage. A low, unintelligible voice from backstage got the man’s attention, and in no time he and the disembodied voice were bickering in Japanese. _Definitely siblings._

                Another man made his way out onto stage, gesticulating exasperatedly. He was stocky, wearing a sleeveless denim vest decorated with buttons on the lapels, embroidered panels on the shoulders, and a black, long-sleeve tee underneath. His hair was styled in an undercut and kept tied in a messy knot, but a thin, artfully-styled piece swooped off his brow. Multiple piercings glinted off his face: a bar in the bridge of his nose, a snake bite, and simple, small hoops were set in his ears. Bright stage lights set off his high, cut cheekbones and sharp definition of his jaw framed with a meticulously-maintained goatee.

                Hanzo threw up his hands in defeat to let his brother fuss over the cables and surveyed the room, hoping no one was watching their little melodrama too closely. One table had been occupied since he last checked, and laughter caught his attention off at the bar. The bartender was laughing, her purple-and-black cornrow undercut bouncing with the movement of her head. She was talking with a man in a cowboy hat who’d also recently arrived and they seemed familiar with each other as they fistbumped. The owner, Gabriel, appeared especially dour regarding the pair. Perhaps they were having a joke at his expense. _Brave_ , Hanzo thought to himself – Gabriel Reyes did _not_ seem like a man to be teased openly and be allow the slighting party to live.

                Briefly, Hanzo and Jesse’s eyes met as Hanzo scanned the room and Jesse had to put effort in not to start in his seat. Truly, a _stunning_ man. Jesse took an involuntary sip of bourbon – his mouth was suddenly a bit parched.

                 The man moved haltingly towards his brother; it puzzled Jesse until he became fully visible from behind an amp. Braces ran up the entire length of both his legs and supported his hips. He could walk, but the gait was slow and uneven. No wonder his brother was concerned about the floor.

                “Green one’s Genji. Bigger one’s Hanzo,” Gabe explained. “Hanzo plays all kinds of shit, he tells me, but I told him to start, I just wanted soft stuff, mostly acoustic, some keyboard if he feels like it. The rowdy stuff’s for Saturdays.”

                “And his brother? They got a gimmick?” Jesse asked.

                “No,” Gabe said, shaking his head. “He’s his manager.”

                “Talking about the fresh blood?” a new but familiar voice interrupted.

                A tall, greying man strapped into an apron emblazoned with the phrase “Raise the Steaks” emerged from the back and settled in next to Gabe, taking his hand where it sat vulnerable on the bartop.

                “Jack,” Jesse greeted warmly.

                “Hey kiddo,” Jack answered. “I’ve seen the younger one in a few times the past several months. He was here one night when Sara’s group did a cover of _Master of Puppets_. You know how Gabe gets with Metallica.”

                “I sure do,” Jesse replied, chuckling.

                “Well, I think he took notes, ‘cause his brother did a _hell_ of a take on “One” that got Gabe real good.”

                “It did not,” Gabe grumbled.

                “ _Please_ , your eyes got all glossy. You hungry, Jes?”

                “Maybe in a bit.”

                “Gonna stay for the show?” Gabe asked.

                “Oh yeah he is,” Sombra interrupted before Jesse could answer, levelling him with perceptive eyes. She’d been watching him watching Hanzo.       

                “Don’t you have work to do?” Jesse bit back.

                “I multi-task.”

                Jesse did indeed settle in. Normally, Tuesdays were pretty quiet, but clutches of people drifted in over the hour and took tables near the stage. Sombra noticed Jesse’s thoughtful frown looking around the space.

                “I _told_ Gabe he’s a thing.”

                “This is without advertising? How do _you_ know about him?”

                “Heard about him on Twitter. Eventually followed him. I like his original stuff, but Gabe is keeping him on covers for now.”

                “What’s his style?”

                “Hm…I’d call it melancholic. Lot of slow, dark stuff, and you know me, goth as hell ‘til I die. He plays almost everything himself, though his brother is listed on some songs.”

                “Damn, a virtuoso type, eh? He from around here?”

                “Nope, he’s native Japanese. Nothing on his official bio stuff says what brought him out here, but I mean, if he’s trying to make it in the big leagues, I guess coming to America for it makes sense. Tucson seems kinda random, though. You’d think LA or New York or even Nashville.”

                “Huh.”

                Jesse’s eyes drifted off again to find Hanzo had disappeared backstage and he pouted a bit, which earned an unseen, amicable roll of the eyes from Sombra.

                “And yes.”

                “Yes?”

                “He’s single.”

                “Uh-uh, fuck off, you can’t _possibly_ know that. Or if he’s…no way.”

                “Oh, I can. My friend’s seen him up at Venture-N a couple times. Usually leaves alone, but when he doesn’t, it’s never the same guy twice.”

                “Is there anything or anyone in this city that can keep a secret from you?”

                “Not yet,” Sombra laughed, plucking up Jesse’s empty glass with an extremely coy expression, tongue poking out a bit.

                The lights came up on the stage, drawing both their attention. Hanzo came out again, greeted by a couple little whoops of excitement. He acknowledged them with an almost-shy wave and smile as he made his way to the mic. An acoustic guitar, blue-grey with gold seam accents, was slung on his shoulder and decorated with a yellow-and-black sticker of two dragons in a circle.

                “Good evening. If you know me, thanks for coming. Trying a new venue tonight. For those who don’t, I am Hanzo Shimada.”

                His accent was heavy, and his voice, now that Jesse could properly hear and understand him, was low and a little rugged, like silk laid over asphalt.

                “I won’t waste any of your time and get right to it. If you’re interested, my brother will be available in back with information and download codes of my original work. The goofy-looking one with the green hair, yes,” he continued, pointing to Genji, who was waving.

                Jesse didn’t recognize the opening cover song, but it made his breath stutter just the same to hear Hanzo when he began to sing. His singing voice was higher than Jesse expected, and flowed lazily as if it were actually honey, smoothing out the grit in his speaking voice. The song was blues-heavy, and Jesse found himself getting too deep into the little story in the lyrics, as if Hanzo were singing from personal experience. How _dare_ anyone leave a man like that without a dance or even a drink. The ache that came on long notes in any good blues riff reverberated sympathetically in his bones.

                Hanzo played for an hour and a half. No one behind the bar even bothered to ask Jesse what he wanted for dinner, but shared mutual knowing looks amongst each other watching his rapture. When the set ended, the resulting semi-silence left Jesse feeling empty. He tried to shake it off and ordered another bourbon. Sombra shook her head no.

                “What?”

                “That’d be your fourth. You know Gabe’s rules for you.”

                “Wh…when did two and three happen?”

                “You were _distracted_. Corona?”

                “Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

                Jesse had just managed to calm down when he heard the scrape of a barstool and involuntarily turned to look; Hanzo was easing himself onto a seat just on the other side of the corner from him. His head was bent, looking at his knees, and Jesse figured out why when he saw Hanzo pull at a cord, making some locking mechanism on his leg braces release so his knees could bend as needed. He’d had an easy smile and warm enough presentation on stage, but now off the clock, Jesse saw he was…more than a little stoic.

                “Good show. What’ll you have?” Sombra asked Hanzo as he finished settling in.

                “Midori sour, no cherry.”

                “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a sweet tooth.”

                “I live to surprise.”

                Genji came up as Hanzo got his drink and looped an arm around his brother’s shoulders, all grins and perkiness compared to Hanzo’s almost drab affect. They spoke briefly in Japanese; Genji nodded affirmatively, slapped Hanzo on the arm, and took off.

                “My brother will take care of the stage,” he explained to Sombra.

                “Take your time. Nobody else is on tonight.”

                Hanzo offered a gracious nod.

                “You play some mean blues,” Jesse opened once Sombra disappeared into the back. He didn’t want her _anywhere_ near this conversation.

                “Thank you,” Hanzo replied. Now he was paying attention, he registered the hat and realized it was the man who’d been there since his sound test. “You’ve been here awhile and seem familiar with the staff.”

                “Yep. Used to work here a long while ago. Gabe and Jack are like family to me. I ain’t been in in a spell. Out of town for a bunch of auctions.”

                “Rancher?”

                “Good call, yep. Did the hat give it away?” Jesse teased with a wink. Hanzo’s icy veneer cracked in a smile warmer and more genuine than the one Jesse had seen on stage.

                “I have a keen eye.”

                Speaking of, Hanzo gave the man a longer and more thorough scan. Even without having seen him on his feet, Hanzo could tell how tall he was. His forearms were almost _upsettingly_ thick and covered in thick hair Hanzo felt compelled to run his fingers over. Medium-dark brown hair draped down to the base of his neck at its longest points, a little ragged in cut that only added to his rustic charm. Just visible inside the tantalizing vee of the two open buttons of Jesse’s shirt, Hanzo could see yet more hair in a healthy pelt disappear under the fabric. Simple, compared to Hanzo’s generally-cosmopolitan attitude and tastes, but soft warmth exuded from him in irresistible waves. And that _smile,_ gregarious and sweet.

                “Sombra tells me you’re a bit of a name. I’m sorry I didn’t know it until now,” Jesse continued.

                “So Genji tells me. He wants me to recognize how starting social media accounts has benefitted me, and I refuse to simply to spite him.”

                “You don’t run that yourself?”

                “I have no idea how any of that shit works. Genji is much more given to it than I am, being the _sociable one._ I have a personal Facebook for ties back home and nothing more. You can follow me on Instagram,” Hanzo continued, sarcastic salesmanship filling his tone.

                “Where’s home?”

                “A small town in Japan called Hanamura. My brother and I immigrated here three years ago.”

                “If you’re in music, why not LA?”

                “I want nothing to do with any of that on a day-to-day basis. Genji manages necessary business meeting prospective labels flying back and forth. Too crowded. Too many vapid people that would net…an intolerable amount of _staring_.”

                Jesse nodded, obviously cowed a bit by Hanzo’s bluntness. Hanzo shifted uneasily in his seat and frowned. Shit, that had been a mistake. He’d been enjoying talking with this stranger, but then again…it always was inevitable, wasn’t it?

                “So.”

                “So?”

                “Ask. Everyone does.”

                Jesse eyed Hanzo’s legs just visible under the bar, feet resting on the barstool’s footrest. Wasn’t exactly difficult to guess what Hanzo was referring to.

                “I wasn’t going to. We can even pretend you didn’t make a posthaste comment about it and everything if you want.” He tipped the rim of his bottle towards Hanzo’s shocked expression in salute and finished his beer. “ _You_ tell _me_ if you feel like it. I ain’t gonna take what’s yours.”

                Hanzo stared down at the bar, his brow knit together in a combination of consternation and deep thought.

                “Is that a promise?”

                “Guaranteed.”

                The ice in Hanzo’s glass tinkled as he finished his drink just a shade too fast.

                “Thank you.”

                “Of course. So…ain’t it a bit expensive to commute your brother in and out of Arizona by plane if you ain’t signed?”

                The bothered wrinkle in the corner of Hanzo’s mouth deepened, much to Jesse’s dismay. He’d hoped that would make for a relatively neutral question.

                “It is. We come from wealth, however. I’m more blessed than most to have a considerable sum of money to burn in vain for my attempt at a career.”

                Jesse waited until Hanzo looked up from his fugue to reply.

                “Don’t look ‘ _in_ _vain’_ to me.”

                The strain in Hanzo’s face eased and his eyes grew soft and appreciative.

                “Kind of you to say.”

                “One thing you should know about me: I don’t just _say_ shit unless I mean it.”

                Hanzo liked that response; he found himself _very_ _much_ wanting to know more about this affable, soft-spoken man, if he was offering the opportunity.

                “I don’t meet many honest men doing this. It’s refreshing to meet one. I’d nearly forgotten what that’s like.”

                That got a shy but wide smile out of Jesse, who tipped back his hat a little to try tucking a bit of his hair peeking out back behind his ear. Hanzo tried to stay passive, but the display was too sweet even for his aloofness.

                “Don’t give me too much credit. Took me a long time for my dumb ass to figure out that was the easier way to live,” Jesse said with a soft huff of laughter.

                “Ooh, _mysterious._ I have a hard time believing that face is capable of anything that isn’t genuine,” Hanzo replied, low and teasing. Both of them belatedly realized how openly flirtatious it was and mutually grew self-conscious. Hanzo in particular bitterly regretted having already finished his drink and left himself without any thin veneer to hide himself in.

                “I ain’t a mystery,” Jesse opened again quietly. “Just a little…road-worn.”

                “I can certainly empathize with that.”

                Their gazes met again at equally-low and skittish angles, but they each found something relatable in the other to soothe their anxieties. Jesse drew the top line of his teeth over his lip, gathering his courage.

                “Shame you do, ‘cause I’d hate to see a face like yours hurtin’.”

                Hanzo’s eyes dove to regard the bar. He was speechless, but a wide smile split his face as he gibbered emptily. It was saccharine, but he wanted to dive into Jesse’s sentiment wholesale and risk the rhetorical diabetes.

                Until Sombra and Gabe could be heard coming up from the kitchen, bickering dully through the vinyl swing door. Jesse and Hanzo alike snapped to, but the hesitance in both their attitudes would be legible as large-print text under a second’s glance. Fortunately, they were too absorbed in each other and swapping insults in Spanish to pay their patrons much notice. Jesse rose, though it wasn’t terribly quick or enthusiastic; still, he’d been here much later than he intended and honestly did need to take his leave, given the thirty mile trip he still had to get home.

                “So you…are in often?” Hanzo cut in suddenly. His head was tilted down, but his eyes peeked up to meet Jesse’s. They both relaxed.

                “I live well outta town. Can’t run cattle on Speedway too well, as you might guess. But I do my best to make it in twice a week.”

                “If Reyes is still amenable, I will be playing Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

                “Matter of fact?” Jesse asked far more lightly than the burgeoning panic in his chest made him feel.

                “Yes.”

                “Well, all right then. I’ll keep it in mind. Sombra, sunshine, don’t miss your tip,” Jesse finished, holding up a fifty for her to take.

                “Am I footing your bill?” Hanzo asked, amused.

                “Oh no, I paid up my bar tab for a good decade yet. That’s me coverin’ _your_ tip, since Gabe don’t charge musicians for drinks on set nights. Have a good night on me.”

                That felt like an acceptably-cryptic note to leave on, so Jesse tipped his hat, turned on a boot heel, and left.

~

                The entire drive home frayed Jesse’s nerves. He kept glancing at his phone in the cupholder. _Give it an hour at least, Jesus Christ_. Just as he pulled up in his driveway, terror struck his chest.

                _He didn’t tell Hanzo his name._

                He swore and smacked the steering wheel a little too hard, striking a nerve that made his whole hand go numb for a second. Barking pulled him out of the threatening anxiety spiral; he tucked his phone away in his back pocket and got out of his truck to meet his dogs bounding up. The cavalcade of fur and happy licks eased his mind and sloughed off the nagging, empty doubt he’d felt since leaving the bar. Name or no name, it was going to be okay; he knew where to go if he wanted to see Hanzo again. He got the dogs fed, mail checked, and started making himself the dinner he neglected getting at the bar before revisiting his phone. Instagram’s logo had never felt so threatening and judgmental as when his thumb hesitated over it to open the app. He shook his head at himself and followed through; he didn’t let himself stop to think and typed Hanzo’s full name into the search bar the second it opened. And there he was, listed under his real name. The most recent post was a picture of La Tumba from the street and a caption saying he would be playing there and at what time.

                He continued down post by post. One was of Hanzo’s electric guitar – a white explorer-style body with an angular, stylized thundercloud-and-lightning motif around the output jack and along the bottom of the body: _new favorite toy arrived, special order._ Edgy, like him. It brought a little smile to Jesse’s face.

                That smile went slack with a decidedly less wholesome emotion when he scrolled onto a post several months old. It was of Hanzo mid-set, taken at a low, oblique angle while playing his keyboard. He was decked out in a slick black-and-silver leather jacket and singing, eyes scrunched shut and jaw wide with emotion, holding some inaudible note. Soft blue and green lights backed him on stage and added to his aura of power; Jesse desperately wanted to know what song he had been playing that put that much… _fire_ in him. The performance tonight had been spellbinding, but softer and more remote. _This_ Hanzo radiated desperation and determination in a tumultuous cocktail, from the ridge in his brow to the obvious force he was putting into the keys before him that made his knuckles sharp angles poking out from his fingerless gloves.

                God _damn_ it, he was beautiful. Everything Jesse had felt watching Hanzo’s set came flooding back anew, making his eyes glaze over. Still, he didn’t press the follow button. Was that too… _something?_ It’d be some kind of self-denial _not_ to, for certain. But Hanzo had told Jesse himself that he didn’t run the account. His brother did. So, then, it was still covert, right? The brother didn’t know him from Adam. A quiet thirst-follow. Yes.

                He pressed _follow_ and immediately abandoned his phone on the counter.

~

                Genji emerged from the kitchen, checking his phone as he joined his brother in the living room. They’d finished packing up the van not long after Jesse had left and ultimately returned to Hanzo’s home, given all the equipment.

                “Oh _hell_ yes, got a few new followers tonight on top of everything,” Genji said, delighted. He flopped on the couch next to Hanzo where he was spread out across it.

                “New followers? Where?” Hanzo asked with a suspicious amount of heretofore nonexistent interest. Genji’s eyes narrowed and looked his brother up and down.

                “Three on Instagram. One on Twitter.”

                “Let me see.”

                “ _Why?_ It’s that cowboy, isn’t it?”

                “He is _not_ a _cowboy_.”

                “I heard what he said. There are cows where he works. He’s male. _Cowboy_.” Genji scrolled the account’s follower list and Hanzo let out a derisive sniff when a massive grin spread on Genji’s face. “Oh yes, he _definitely_ looks like someone that would be named Mc-anything.”

                “So he did?” Hanzo asked, unable to hide his surprise and investment.

                “Maybe,” Genji replied coyly. “Should I follow back?”

                “Do not _even begin_ to joke about that.”

                “Should’ve known a man would finally get you on social media. Thot.”

                “You say these things to me like I know what they fucking _mean,_ ” Hanzo sighed helplessly.

                “On the contrary, brother.”

                Hanzo swept the phone out of Genji’s hands and scrolled for himself. Conveniently, Genji had already opened the profile – cowboy4you67 – and found a host of goofy-faced selfies with his steers and an abundance of dog pictures. It appeared he had three dogs, one mutt and two Australian Shepherds.

                “Jesse McCree,” Hanzo murmured, reading his bio. 

                “Did you _seriously_ not get his name before he left?” Genji asked, scandalized. “And I told you he was a cowboy. Says it himself.”

                “Fuck you.” Hanzo continued reading out loud. “Six foot one inch stack of plaid and denim. Dog dad. Sustainable rancher. Farm-to-table evangelist.” Hanzo’s words trailed off as he arrived at picture of Jesse set against a sunrise, clearly taken with a selfie stick. He was on horseback, lit from behind in a halo effect by the morning light and had a bright, wide smile. _Moments like this remind a man what’s worth living for_ , the caption said.

                “Cheesy,” Hanzo tried.

                “And you’ll eat every last ounce of it up,” Genji replied knowingly. “I was gonna say let’s get you a personal Insta, but then again, Snapchat might suit you better given that look on your face.”

                “What the _fuck_ does that mean?” Hanzo asked with a note of confusion bordering on desperation straining his voice.

                “You’re thirsty. That’s what Snapchat is _for_. I’ll go looking and see if I can find him there.”

                “Stop, _stop_ , I do not need your… _assistance._ ”

                Genji returned a haughty sniff and waved Hanzo off.

                “You’ll come crying to me about it soon enough.”

~

                The week passed, ended, and a new one began without the man – Jesse – returning. It made for just enough time for Hanzo to let the feeling he’d been holding onto go. He hadn’t _forgotten_ about Jesse, but he wasn’t living in anticipation anymore. When he slid in on the subsequent Tuesday, however, Hanzo saw him right away from backstage and immediately felt nailed to the spot. He hadn’t had his wits together enough to really look at Jesse as he had left the previous week and was only now registering just how _long_ his legs were. A tad bow-legged, too.

                Jesse took his usual seat, though with far less ease than he had the previous week. He was trying to remain as casual as possible and not put the effort into _looking_ for Hanzo that he wanted to. Better to wait and let Hanzo show up on his own time, Jesse told himself. He was working, after all. Not that Jesse hadn’t planned his entire day around showing up at La Tumba well before Hanzo’s set so maybe they’d have a chance to talk. Oh no, not at _all._

                “You’re in early,” Jack said as he appeared from the kitchen. A wide, knowing smile lit his face, but he mercifully left it at that as he poured Jesse a glass of his usual bourbon. “You’re lucky Gabe’s taking the night off.”

                “Thank god for that.”

                “Just remember I’ll report back to him,” he added under his breath and threw in a wink for good measure.

                “Now you’re just ruining it for me, Jack.”

                Jack laughed and pat Jesse on the arm in reassurance. His eyes darted off to look behind Jesse; he offered a nod of acknowledgement and pivoted to head straight back into the kitchen. That was just enough warning for Jesse’s gut to bottom out before Hanzo came up from behind and took a stool next to Jesse, far closer than he had been the other night.

                “Why hello,” Hanzo offered in that low, slighty-rusted voice Jesse had been so immediately fond of.

                “Howdy,” Jesse replied in knee-jerk response. He cursed at himself inwardly for it – rancher he may be, that sounded ridiculous to a near-stranger. Hanzo didn’t seem to mind, however, as a warm smile bloomed on his face as he got himself settled. Indeed, he didn’t; he found it terribly sweet, like Jesse’s self-conscious tics he’d seen on their first meeting.

                “You keep odd hours for a rancher.”

                “Well, when you’re the boss, you work the hours everyone else isn’t, for the most part.”

                “ _Oh_ ,” Hanzo replied in surprise. “I didn’t…I just assumed—”

                “Yeah, I’m a little young to own an entire ranch, don’t worry about it. The original owner was looking to retire, and I’d been his most trusted hand. I bought it off him three years ago so he could go play golf to his heart’s content out in Scottsdale.”

                “Impressive.”

                “I just worked hard. He taught me a lot and gave me a chance when a lot of others wouldn’t. It’s a blessing.”

                “More of that humility. So much so you won’t even let me know your name,” Hanzo teased.

                Jesse winced and played with his beard.

                “Yeah, I uh…forgot about that, didn’t I? When I got home that night, I realized I’d fucked up.”

                “You certainly did.”

                “Well hang on, now, if you knew that, why didn’t you ask?”

                Whoops. Hanzo was caught; now it was his turn to grow sheepish and twist at one of his snake bite piercings. They shared a laugh over it.

                “Ah…because it didn’t occur to _me_ until I got home, either. No, that’s not entirely honest…my brother asked me and I realized I had no idea.” That wasn’t _completely_ the truth either, but Hanzo was hardly about to cop to thirst-stalking on social media.

                “Couplea disasters, ain’t we?” Jesse said, grinning even as he grew more self-conscious. “It’s Jesse McCree. Most call me just by my last name.”

                “There it is. Good to meet you, McCree,” Hanzo replied, extending a hand. Jesse took it to shake and tried very hard to ignore the heavy flutter in his chest from touching him. “You liked my blues work, as I recall. Any requests for tonight?”

                “Oh! I, uh…shit, I don’t know. I…I ain’t gonna tell you how to, y’know…do your job,” Jesse managed to stutter out past his surprise.

                “Well, without my own catalogue to choose from, I’m at the mercy of my prospective audience, aren’t I?” Hanzo said, mischief in his tone. “Tell me what you like. Even just in general. I can play it, guaranteed. Why don’t you try to surprise me?”

                “Let’s…let’s see.” Jesse was wholly incapable of the kind of concentration needed for this. “In general, I guess, I like…uh, lot of 70s stuff. I’m sure _that’s_ a shock, lookin’ at me. Um. ELO, Skynyrd, Eagles. Wait, you play piano, right? How about some Brubeck? Is that too esoteric for tonight?”

                “Maybe. I don’t care. That _is_ a surprise,” Hanzo replied at a purr that made Jesse’s knees feel weak just sitting in place at the bar. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for any kind of jazz interest, in all honesty.”

                “Picked it up from my mom. I, uh…learned piano as a kid from her. I’ve never been good enough for Brubeck, but I still play simpler arrangements of Ellington that I originally learned on just for fun. I fell off playing for a long time and it’s been rough tryin’ to re-learn.”

                “That’s lovely. You’ve got good, wide hands for playing,” Hanzo replied before he could reconsider any potential double entendre and realized too late when Jesse went a little pink in reaction. “Practice is all anyone needs. It’s rare I get to play for myself anymore, and sometimes I lament that.”

                “You record whole albums. That ain’t for you?” Jesse asked.

                “Hm. It is, but I mean…that’s still working. Crafting, I suppose is the better word. My favorite part of recording is when I start, honestly. Before I write anything down. I spend a lot of time playing whatever comes to mind in whatever key that suits my mood. _That_ is when I play for myself.”

                Jesse could picture the scene easily: Hanzo sequestered away, headphones on, looking sedate as his fingers wandered up and down the frets on the guitar he played at his shows. Soft and content. He seemed like the type to prefer keeping to himself and getting lost in his own creative pursuits. But maybe…maybe he could make some space for someone else. Jesse hoped so.

                “So Gabe isn’t lettin’ you play your own stuff yet, right? I’ll talk him around on it.”

                “…You can?” Hanzo had been resigned to waiting several months to get the opportunity to convince Reyes on holding a full concert there.

                “Oh yeah, I can. At least get a song or two in your lineup. He’s a lot softer than he puts up front, you just gotta be someone he trusts. He brought this place up from nothin’ in the mid-90s, so he’s paranoid about keepin’ the business and resistant to change. They almost failed a couple times in the early years.”

                “That…that would be kind of you,” Hanzo replied softly. “I am a proud man, but not _too_ proud to accept an offer of a greased wheel. It’s just…part of this business. Not that you are something to be taken advantage of,” he added in a rush. “I don’t want to jeopardize your friendship with Reyes.”

                “Oh, don’t worry about that,” Jesse replied with a thin, self-deprecating huff. “I done _plenty_ of that on my own in my time knowing him, and he keeps me around. There ain’t nothin’ you can do to hurt what Reyes and I have. I don’t call him _dad_ or anything, but…he’s close. Real close.”

                “I see.” Hanzo didn’t know how else to respond given the distantly-bothered crease in Jesse’s mouth as he explained himself. After a moment, Jesse pulled his shoulders to his ears in a stretch to shake himself from memory and let out a long sigh.

                “Sorry. Point is, I wanna help, and he’ll listen to me. You can’t sell albums if people don’t know what you sound like, even if you tell ‘em you have ‘em available.”

                “Thank you,” Hanzo said emphatically. Jesse shook his head and returned a precocious smile.

                “Oh no, it’s all self-servin’. I wanna hear it.”

                “I have copies in the van, for heaven’s sake. You can have—”

                Jesse cut Hanzo off with a wave and pointed at him.

                “Uh-uh. I’ll pay for it like everyone else. I don’t care if your dad is Bill fuckin’ Gates. And anyway…I tend to prefer live performance. I can see the emotion, which adds to it. If I can, I’d like to hear it that way first, if that ain’t an insult.”

                Hanzo worried his lower lip and fret with a napkin corner prone to his nervous fingers on the bar. What a… _distressingly_ good man. The fact Jesse wanted to _see_ him play when his work was so incredibly personal made Hanzo feel almost uncomfortably watched. Jesse, of course, had no idea what his music sounded like, what the lyrics were, but once he did, he would certainly… _know_ a lot more about Hanzo. He wanted Jesse’s attention – he wasn’t going to try denying that – but this was a measure more potent than casual flirting for him.

                “No. That’s…not at all. I agree with your opinion. It’s…flattering you…have that level of interest in…in my work.”

                Jesse had to admit feeling pretty fucking victorious for rendering Hanzo a little speechless. He was usually the one stuttering under any measure of unexpected attention. Warmth filled his chest in tandem with the tiny thrill in his gut.

                “I do.”

                Hanzo nodded for far too long and couldn’t manage much better than a nervous bit of giggling. He caught a glance at his phone when it brightened with a notification – his heart sank when he saw the time. Goddamn it.

                “It’s nearly six. I…I have to…” Hanzo said.

                “Go on ahead. I can’t stay too late tonight, but I’ll stick around for a bit of the show.”

                Wait _just_ a moment. Cunning narrowed Hanzo’s gaze as he got up to leave.

                “Is that so? Then…you came by for nothing?” Hanzo asked slyly, pointing to Jesse’s completely-untouched bourbon. Instantly, Jesse went red. “Enjoy your drink,” he finished with a smirk and left to head backstage. Movement caught Jesse’s eye; Jack and Sombra were just visible through the little window on the vinyl door between the kitchen and the bar and were watching from behind the prep table. Jesse couldn’t flash the gesture he wanted, lest he telegraph the scene to Hanzo, but he gave them both an exasperated glare and shook his head minutely. Dim laughter could be heard from within. Jesus _Christ_ , he was never going to hear the end of this.

                                                                                                ~

                Over the next several weeks, Jesse did his best to make as many of Hanzo’s shows as he could. As much as possible, he orchestrated his days to give himself opportunity to chat with his newfound crush, but he wasn’t always successful, given the ranch. Even if he only got to watch Hanzo play, Jesse could tell Hanzo was looking for him on show nights – they’d catch eyes at least once and exchange smiles. When they _did_ get to talk, it often meant Jesse getting home late, but the more it happened, the less he cared. Gabe, Jack, and Sombra all kept eyes like hawks on them when they spent time together, but beyond the occasional streak of under-breath haranguing, they left Jesse and Hanzo to themselves.

                Tonight, Jesse finished up a bit later than he’d hoped and had made a beeline for town. Since it had been a particularly nice day, he opted to take his motorcycle; his budget for gas had gone up… _substantially_ in the past couple months. Whatever. He rarely took time for himself or spent wildly, even though he made a pretty comfortable living. His employees were even beginning to cotton on to his suddenly-improved mood and were asking questions, but it wasn’t like he had anything to tell them. Yet. Maybe. Christ, he didn’t know.

                What _Jesse_ didn’t realize was that Hanzo had been doing the same. At most, he needed ninety minutes to prepare with Genji’s assistance now that they were accustomed to La Tumba and its facilities. These days, he would arrive sometimes as early as three in the afternoon and set up camp, unbothered by the seemingly-wasted time even if Jesse didn’t make it in that night. It was driving his brother straight up the wall, as he was the one who drove the van with all the equipment. He’d begun just leaving Hanzo at the bar whenever he asked to be dropped off and went off to get errands done for himself rather than sit around all goddamn afternoon waiting for a reasonable time to begin setup. Annoying as it was, Genji had to admit he felt…almost _relieved_ his brother had the interest and that it got him out of the house more. If only he’d fucking _do_ something about it, but Genji knew far better than to dip a toe in those waters without explicit permission.

                The door creaked; soon as Jesse was even partially visible prying the sticky door open, they met eyes. Hanzo was on stage with just his acoustic, and Jesse only just managed to see Genji disappear in back as a blur of green. He bypassed the bar entirely for the moment to approach Hanzo where he sat.

                “You’re here,” Hanzo greeted, and Jesse was relatively sure he picked up a note of relief in there.

                “That I am. Shame I can’t even pretend your bein’ here is unexpected. Leaves me at a bit of a disadvantage.”

                “Mm, what _would_ you do if I didn’t show up on a show night?”

                “Panic a little,” was Jesse’s honest answer before he could stop himself. Hanzo’s reserved little smile spread and his nose went a bit pink.

                “Was that your Octane I heard pull up?” Hanzo asked casually as he strummed and tuned. Better to focus on that than actually look at Jesse. That’d be a bit much right now.

                “Oh- _ho_ , fancy yourself a bike man, do you? Callin’ the model just from the engine sound.”

                “Am I wrong?”

                “…No.”

                “I bet everyone expects you to ride a Harley, too.”

                “That they do. What’s your poison?”

                “An MV Augusta. Dark, matte blue.”

                “ _Fuck._ ”

                “I told you I came from money, did I not?”

                “W-well…”

                Before he could process the shock fully, his mind noted Hanzo’s braces under the guitar, and Hanzo’s knowing raised eyebrow signaled to Jesse he was caught looking. His heart sank.

                “Yes,” Hanzo said evenly.

                “I—”

                “No, you were _not_ going to ask, I know. You have kept your promise, but there is no fooling you or trying to avoid anything now you know about my interest in motorsports. So: the answer to the question you were not going to speak is yes, it happened because of an accident on my $120,000 racing motorcycle.”

                Jesse didn’t immediately reply, but Hanzo anticipated that. Most people responded to the explanation that way. Inevitably, they got lost imagining what it might have looked like. Motorcycle accidents were a specific kind of vivid. Finally, Jesse let out a sigh, crossed his arms, and shifted his weight back on his left leg, tilting his hips.

                “Glad you made it,” he murmured.

                Hanzo abandoned all imitation of disaffection to stare over at Jesse. His gaze grew plaintive, and Jesse intrinsically understood that no one had ever responded that way to the explanation before. His breathing hitched in his chest.

                “Hanzo!” Genji called, and Hanzo’s eyes fluttered shut. A flicker of disappointment and even anger passed over his face. He didn’t turn as his brother came up from backstage; Genji hesitated, even in his haste, when he registered that Jesse and Hanzo had been talking. The irritation in Hanzo’s tense shoulders was unmistakable, too.

                “ _Anija_ , I cannot find the microphone stand.”

                “Gabe sometimes disassembles it and puts it in the spare cable box,” Jesse suggested. “Or, if he’s bein’ stupid, it’ll end up in the cleaning closet. They used to use it for audio storage years ago and old habits die hard for him.”

                “Thank you,” Genji said, dropping his head in a tiny bow before leaving again.

                Awkward silence followed with the moment having been shattered. Jesse regarded and shuffled his feet before finding a bit of nothing to ask about.

                “What’d he call you?”

                “Hm?” Hanzo asked, distracted by his own anxiety to fully comprehend. “Oh. Brother. He only does it when he knows he’s irked me. The deference is an apology.”

                “Deference?”

                “Ah, right. Specifically, he’s saying _older_ brother. Recognizing my place in our family. It’s not something Americans are given to noting like it is for us.”

                “So…what do you call him?”

                Hanzo’s eyes dipped down and away.

                “Otouto.” _Not often enough._

                “You two seem pretty close.”

                _Do we?_

                “We are all each other had when we came here. I suppose that has engendered a lot of trust between us. Eventually,” Hanzo added with a sardonic huff.

                “Eventually?”

                “The first year was…a struggle. My health was not what it is now, nor my…attitude. It created strain between us. Well, _more –_ the accident, as you can imagine, affected our family dynamic profoundly. But I think leaving Japan was ultimately a good idea. It forced Genji and I to reconcile many things about our respective experiences after my accident. We would not have done that at home.”

                “And your parents?”

                “My mother passed twenty years ago. And my father…is my father. He made the initial suggestion I emigrate if I was to pursue music. At first, I thought…well, honestly, I thought he was putting me off, because he only suggested it after I got hurt.”

                Jesse winced. He _really_ wasn’t good at this, was he?

                “Sorry ‘bout your mom.”

                “It’s fine, McCree. I miss her, but it is no trauma. I got to spend the time with her I needed to before we lost her. Breast cancer,” he explained when Jesse appeared confused. “My life is not as wide a minefield as you are worried it might be.”

                “So I just got bad luck,” Jesse mumbled and pulled nervously at the tip of beard.

                Hanzo shook his head and braced himself before answering.

                “Not at all. You want to know, and I…I want to tell you.”

                Jesse thought he was going to pass out on the spot for the rush he felt hearing that.

                “You can tell me anything,” he replied quietly. “I’ll listen.”

                Neither one knew what to say anymore and stood there, staring emptily at each other for some kind of cue that never came. A small cabal of people walked in, catching Hanzo’s eye, and he remembered what time it was. His exasperation with everything deepened.

                “You should…” he mumbled.

                “Yeah,” Jesse replied, sounding winded. He turned to leave.

                “But after,” Hanzo added hastily. “After…there’s more. Of…of whatever you want to know.”

                The worry and reticence in Jesse’s face eased, and he nodded, but he was still bereft of a single coherent thought. Nor did he try to scrape one together. Hanzo let him go; he looked very overwhelmed. Almost as soon as Jesse was out of reasonable distance to regain his attention, Hanzo remembered the most important thing he’d been looking forward to: telling Jesse that he’d been successful and Reyes had contacted him to let him know he could play a few songs of his own creation starting tonight. He swore at himself and got up to fetch his electric as well as help Genji with final setup.

                “Sorry,” Genji said as Hanzo appeared backstage. “I didn’t…”

                “It’s fine,” Hanzo replied in a clipped tone that did not assure it was, in fact, fine in any way whatsoever. “What’s left? We have fifteen minutes.”

                “Almost nothing,” Genji replied, all business. Trying to make Hanzo feel better was _not_ going to work. “Where do you want the keyboard tonight?”

                Meanwhile, Jesse had taken his mildly-dejected seat at the bar. He was so distracted he didn’t even notice Gabe giving him a _look_. To outsiders, it would look like a glare, but anyone who knew him well enough knew it was simply intense assessment before a serious discussion.

                “Well?” Gabe opened, making Jesse start. Now, he noticed _the look_ and shrank a little in his stool.

                “Well what,” Jesse tried, and both of them felt transported in time back to when Jesse was eighteen by his disaffected tone alone. The deflection hadn’t worked then, either. Gabe knew better than to give the response the time of day beyond a continued, more severe stare. “What the fuck do you want from me, Gabe?” Jesse asked quietly, given the potential of being overheard by adjacent tables.

                “It ain’t about what _I_ want.”

                They hadn’t done this in a while; long enough for Jesse to forget how much he fucking _hated_ it when it did. He was always grateful later, after he solved whatever problem was at hand for him, but every second before that was like being dragged behind a truck at low speed. Gabe always just _knew_ , and he was so fucking _good_ at making Jesse sit down with himself and _deal with it._ But everything about tonight and the past several weeks felt particularly insurmountable. He had never been lucky enough for…what he wanted.

                “What I want doesn’t—”

                “Shut the fuck up, Jesse.”

                Jesse grit his teeth and went silent. God _damn_ it, just let him _sulk._ Five minutes.

                “Let’s try that again,” Gabe continued with a shade of gentility only Jesse would be able to pick up on, and he did, as his eyes grew very soft. Still, he didn’t know what to say that was an admission beyond anything he felt comfortable with in semi-public. Gabe let that go for once; he knew Jesse’s lifelong struggle well, and… _everything_ about Hanzo encapsulated the biggest part of it.

                “He’s up for it,” Gabe offered casually. “Don’t try to argue otherwise. I’m fifty, gay, and have eyes. And you know it just as well as I do. You know what you’re doing to yourself.”

                Jesse had taken to picking at a hangnail, which promptly began to bleed. Even as he plucked up and held a napkin to the tiny wound, he began tearing the opposite corner into tiny shreds. Yes, he did indeed know exactly what he was doing to himself, and stopping at this point was going to be a difficult task. That was why he hated these talks with Gabe – it meant he was no longer in control, and somebody had to come in and help him reel in the runaway train. It took so little to make him feel like he was a teenager all over again, even now.

                “Jesse.”

                On practiced cue, Jesse took a deep breath to steady himself. However uncomfortable this always was, Gabe was also always conscientious of where they were when it happened. He never called attention to it with overwrought displays – that would only make it worse.

                “Yeah. I know,” Jesse sighed.

                “It ain’t about what you know, either.”

                Jesse shut his eyes tight in a wince and nodded. Right.

                “I…I don’t…”

                “Yeah, you can. You’ve done _way_ harder shit than this, kid.”

                “Don’t feel like it right now,” Jesse admitted with shaky laughter.

                “I get that, but Jesus Christ, Jesse, give _yourself_ the fuckin’ chance, to hell with Studs.”

                “Hanzo’s a pretty integral part of the whole goddamn deal, Gabe,” Jesse replied, but it did get a real smile out of him.

                “Fair. Look, the worst thing that happens is he says no, and then he can fuck off and die.”

                “ _Gabe._ ”

                “What? He can. I don’t need his tastefully-ripped-ass-jeans and impeccable undercut in here, I don’t care how locally-famous he fuckin’ is.”

                Jesse started laughing despite himself and covered his face with a hand at his brow. Stupid son of a bitch, ruining his bad mood.

                “Thanks, Gabe.”

                “Anytime, kid. Now go fuckin’ _do_ something about it already. You’re gonna give me hypertension if I gotta watch this much longer.”

                “He’s about to play, so maybe not… _right_ now?”

                “Oh, _now_ you’re gonna get picky about where and when your dramatic ass is gonna perform.”

                Jesse buried his head in his arms laid out on the bar as he fell into hysterical, relieving laughter. They were interrupted by Hanzo taking the stage and introducing himself. No trace of Hanzo’s previous irritation was evident; he had an exceptional professional bearing. As usual, Jesse was immediately taken, to which Gabe rolled his eyes.

                “Your lobbying paid off, by the way. Don’t think I didn’t realize what you were up to.”

                “Say what?” Jesse asked, belatedly and reluctantly turning back to address Gabe.

                “Dunno if he told you, but I gave him the green light to play his own shit tonight. We’re working on finding a Friday or Saturday for him to have a full concert in a couple months. We’re pretty booked right now.”

                “I…oh shit.”

                “ _Wow Gabe, thank you so much!”_ Gabe teased, mimicking Jesse’s characteristic drawl. “Why you’re welcome, Jesse, not that you’re gonna fuckin’ get nothin’ out of it unless—”

                “ _I get it_ ,” Jesse replied in exasperation.

                “—start tonight with something a little different: a selection from my first album, which is available for sale online or through my brother, helpfully available over there,” Hanzo’s voice came into focus again as he set to begin.

                Jesse had _not_ prepared for this at all. Their scant moments together had already been charged, and now…now he was going to hear one of Hanzo’s songs for the first time. And then… _then._ Maybe he was just going to drop dead of stress today, who knew. On stage, Hanzo hesitated as he put his hands in place on his keyboard facing out. His suddenly-sheepish eyes nudged up and scanned the crowd to find Jesse; though Jesse was confused by the reticence, he offered a smile. Maybe he was trying to apologize for not mentioning it earlier.

                It seemed to be enough, because Hanzo began. The song was slow and aching with minor chords. Jesse had expected to find the emotion he’d seen in the Instagram post weeks earlier; he did, but he’d mistaken it for passion. This was… _anguish_. Sombra had called it ‘melancholic’, he recalled too late. The lyrics weren’t openly illustrative of Hanzo’s life, but Jesse understood enough of who Hanzo was now to appreciate that the general conceptual tone of unwilling inertia and frustration were _very much_ taken from specific life experiences. The feeling Jesse had had hearing that first cover song and taking it a little too seriously returned a thousandfold – but this time, he didn’t simply lament Hanzo’s listlessness and empty drifting, he _empathized_ deeply with it. The circumstances didn’t match at all, but the emotions that came with their respective experiences certainly did. A lump formed in his throat.

                Hanzo hadn’t been apologizing; he’d been reluctant to open up in Jesse’s presence. Fifty people were in here watching, but that apparently meant little compared to the single opinion of a man currently thirty seconds from having a full-blown panic attack over asking Hanzo out on a date. The tacit admission of shared fear both elated and further terrified Jesse. _Everything_ was mutual; he had no idea what he was supposed to do with that.

                But then again, he wouldn’t figure it out until he tried, would he?

                Despite the success of the evening, aggravation sat over Hanzo in a stormcloud as he left the stage over an hour later. Playing his heart out hadn’t helped the way it normally did and he had desperately wanted it to. And with the distraction of performance over, all the feelings from before the show crowded him once more on top of the irritation. This wasn’t terribly _professional_ of him to be feeling right now, but goddamn it—

                Hanzo nearly plowed right past Jesse, who had been fiddling nervously with his phone.

                “Jesus, gonna just run me the hell over, are you? All the grace of a fuckin’ Mack truck.”

                “Y-you’re backstage.”

                Jesse straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the wall, teeth scraping at his lower lip and hands fake-casually shoved in his pockets.        

                “Yep. I done lights and shit back here in the past. Not exactly restricted access for me.”

                “True. Yes, I suppose. I just…”

                Hanzo had nothing further lined up to say, and he wasn’t going to divine it now, standing so close to Jesse in a relatively enclosed space. A space Jesse had waited for him in.

                “Saturday,” Jesse blurted.

                “It’s Thursday.”

                “Yeah, I know, genius,” Jesse replied exasperatedly and scrubbed at his forehead. “I mean. Are you free. That particular day. The one that isn’t Thursday.”

                “Uh. For…for what?”

                “I ain’t figured that out yet, truth be told. But are you free anyway?”

                “I-I…yes. Yes I am. For that one. All the ones that aren’t Thursdays. Or Thursdays, too—no, shut the fuck up, Hanzo,” Hanzo replied in stilted, rushed tones. He took his chances meeting Jesse’s eyes and saw an openly sappy smile waiting for him that only made the earth underneath him feel less concrete than ever.

                “Don’t,” Jesse said softly. “It’s cute.”

                Hanzo went scarlet.

                “So…I dunno…pick you up around six on Saturday? Whatever that…entails?”

                “Yes. Whatever that entails,” Hanzo replied in a strangled voice.

                “Yeah. Okay. Good,” Jesse said, sounding more stressed than ever. He turned to leave, and Hanzo caught him by the shoulder to stop him. An electric line ran up from the source of touch down Jesse’s torso and straight up Hanzo’s arm.

                “I mean that. You…you and I can…do whatever comes to mind. In fact – _shit_ , yes – give me your phone. You can’t pick me up if you don’t know where I live.”

                Jesse looked like he’d been slapped across the face. He pulled out his phone and unlocked it for Hanzo.

                “Jesus _Christ_ , you’re right. I been so…”

                “I know,” Hanzo reassured him. He took it and opened his contacts to add himself, phone number as well as address. Might as well go full-tilt. “Text me if you come up with an idea. Or…if you want my thoughts. I’m up all hours, generally, hiding out in my studio. By all means…please, bother me.”

                “Careful what you wish for,” Jesse replied with a breath of self-deprecating laughter. “Might come to regret bein’ so inviting.”

                Hanzo returned a single, arched eyebrow and barely-there, coy smirk that Jesse felt all the way down to his toes.

                “I don’t think I will.”

                “Yeah…yeah, great. Saturday. I’ll…I’ll let you pack up, then. I got, uh…”

                “Dogs to feed?”

                Jesse’s head shot up; he’d said _nothing_ about his dogs to Hanzo _once_. On purpose. He’d worried he wouldn’t have been able to shut up about them and come off as a weirdo. Hanzo thoroughly enjoyed the gobsmacked expression.

                “The one missing a leg. What’s his name? I’ve been wondering.”

                “D-Deadeye.”

                “Ha, excellent name.” He slid past Jesse blocking his way in the narrow hallway. “See you this weekend.”

                Jesse abandoned La Tumba out the service entrance to avoid the crowd he _knew_ was waiting for him at the bar with expectant looks. Only when he got back on his bike and tore out onto the street did he begin to relax and really enjoy his victory. A flush filled his cheeks he couldn’t totally blame on the windburn – he’d done it. This was a first for him in a long time.

                “The little bastard fucked off, didn’t he?” Gabe barked as Hanzo approached the bar.

                “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hanzo replied coolly.

                “Don’t give me that shit. Did he do it? Ha! _He did,_ ” Gabe said victoriously when Hanzo’s frown grew pinched. He leant through the door to the kitchen. “Jack! Your bitchass owes me a bottle of Chateau Margaux! Told you a peptalk would work!”

                “And you wonder why he went out the back door,” Hanzo mumbled to himself, but alas, Gabe heard him.

                “He’s only putting off the inevitable and he knows it. It’s my job.”

                “To nose in his business?”

                Anger flashed across Gabe’s face, but just in time, his husband appeared and had overheard; Jack pat Gabe on the shoulder, and with a sigh, he relaxed his usual devil-may-care attitude and walked over to regard Hanzo more directly.

                “I don’t know what he’s told you, but Jesse doesn’t have much, okay?”

                “We’re a piece of it,” Jack added. “It’s all in good humor, don’t worry.”

                Hanzo straightened in his barstool and gave a nod. Perhaps he was being a little too presumptuous – he really _didn’t_ know Jesse well, and Gabe’s explanation offered a simultaneously concerning and tantalizing new depth.

                “Fair. I apologize if I offended.”

                “It’s fine. Appreciated, even. Means you give a shit. When?” Gabe asked, and did not offer anything in his tone that the question was in any way rhetorical or light-hearted teasing.

                “Saturday.”

                “Good. He’s worth it. You break his heart, it’s your ass – I could give a shit about your legs.”

                “ _Gabe,_ ” Jack sighed, but Hanzo casually waved it off.

                “Noted.”

~

                Forty-eight hours had never felt more like purgatory than Jesse’s wait between Thursday night and Saturday afternoon. Time only seemed to crawl ever more slowly when he had woken up that morning. He parked in Hanzo’s driveway and honestly couldn’t recall a second of his thirty-minute drive. For far too long, his hands were adhered to the steering wheel as he remained unmoving in the driver’s seat. Hanzo probably knew he was here, too. Goddamn it, he was thirty-three years old – there was no excuse for feeling like this. First step: get out of the fucking truck. Second: walk up.

                Steps three and four – knock on the door and try not to die on the spot – disappeared from his short-term memory as well, because the next thing he knew, Hanzo was in front of him at the open door. An amused little smile creased his face.

                “Good.”

                “Wh—good?’

                “No flowers. I despise flowers.”

                Jesse was dumbstruck, but Hanzo’s shit-eating smirk remained.

                “I never understood the point of giving a gift the receiver must watch die.”

                Jesse blinked away his shock and returned an amicable roll of the eyes.

                “Wow, and just like that, I’m not worried about being the one to come off as awkward and unintentionally pessimistic first.”

                “How dare you, accusing me of making a _mistake_ in expressing my pessimistic nature.”

                Jesse was sans Stetson tonight and had tied his hair up in a high ponytail that was only just long enough to accommodate, making a little tuft off his skull. He’d made a _bold_ choice with his solid-blue button-up instead of his usual plaid, sleeves nonetheless compulsively rolled up despite pairing the shirt with tan slacks to dress up his look. Hanzo found it endlessly charming he’d clearly put so much concern and effort in to achieve something and end up not changing very much at all.

                By contrast, Hanzo had put quite a bit of extra flair into his already-fashionable look. His jeans were black with minute, shimmering thread inlay into it – expensive-looking as far as Jesse could tell. Rather than his denim vest, he’d chosen a fitted, black button-up with a striking pattern of stylized lotus blossoms across the chest and shoulders. His hair was down and cascaded off the right side of his head, brushed to a luster and loosely tied at the ends with a ribbon.

                They walked to the truck – Hanzo gave a hum of pleasant surprise at Jesse’s chosen vehicle.

                “Oh, excellent. I had…wondered if…”

                “I’d bring my bike? God, no. I usually just keep this on the ranch and have a car for gettin’ around, but…I, uh…thought the truck bein’ up higher was a…a better idea. It’s old, though. Looks like it, too,” Jesse explained brokenly, rubbing the back of his neck. Hanzo turned to him, warm appreciation in his expression.

                “Thoughtful of you.”

                “Shit, I don’t know what I’m doin’. Just trying to do right.”

                “The trying is what matters.”

                Jesse opened the door and held Hanzo’s hand while he pulled himself inside and got settled.

                “Well, that’s good, because I tried hard as hell to come up with something to do and came up empty,” he said, nervous laughter punctuating his thought.

                “Fine. Take me to dinner.”

                “Christ, that’s so… _basic._ ”

                “On the contrary. You hardly talk about yourself, and I suspect that has much to do with your friends watching our every move at La Tumba. Let me interrogate you to my heart’s content over dinner. You can lie as much as you want with no one around to call you out.”

                All Jesse felt like doing was dragging Hanzo back inside and kissing that smug look off his face, but he decided he should probably stick to his usual gentlemanly attitude for a first date.

                “All right. I get to pick if I’m in the hot seat.”

                “Entirely fair.”   

                “Goddamn right it is,” Jesse replied with a grin and shut the door.

                Jesse’s normal fare when he came into town was usually Mexican food trucks and far too many indulgences in Eegee’s, but he did have a favorite place in mind. Hanzo gave him a long, amused look as they pulled up to their destination – a gimmicky steakhouse called _Cody’s Beef ‘n Beans._ Hanzo was certain he’d passed it by dozens of times, as he came through the neighborhood all the time, but had never noticed it. Wagon wheels decorated the outdoor façade – more than a bit tacky for Hanzo’s refined tastes.

                “What?” Jesse asked, smirking. “I supply them. It might be cheesy as hell, but I’ll be proud of it anyway. Seems only right to take you somewhere I _know_ the food is good.”

                Hanzo’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. Everything made a lot more sense, now, and Hanzo had to admit he was a bit touched by Jesse’s confidence about his work. Aesthetic aside, he found himself much more enthusiastic about the idea. It was still early, so they got a table without any difficulty. As soon as their waiter trot off after handing off their drink orders, Hanzo folded his hands in front of his face and fixed Jesse with a measuring stare.

                “Oh, shit,” Jesse mumbled.

                “Hardly my fault you try so hard to be mysterious, and that is damning, coming from me. Let’s start with the obvious. You’re from here?”

                “Born and raised.”

                “Good. Your family stays close by, then, yes?”

                _Shit._ Jesse had seen the question coming a mile away and it still made him wince a little. Maybe it was better to hit it right out of the gate, he considered with a soft sigh. It wasn’t anything to dance around like he was ashamed of it – at least, not anymore.

                “Short answer’s yes. Long answer depends on your definition of family.”

                Hanzo pulled a face like he’d stepped on a land mine. Jesse leant onto his elbows on the table. Gut through. The brutal method would be appreciated in the long run.

                “My foster mother lives up in the foothills. My birth parents are a little closer by in Evergreen.”

                “The—” Hanzo said weakly.

                “Cemetery, yeah,” Jesse finished for him. Hanzo grew pale; Jesse reached over and held his wrist across the table. “It’s okay. Shouldn’t have been so tight-lipped about it from the get-go.”

                “I. I am so sorry.”

                “Situations like mine are rare, thank god. You ain’t gonna consider it off the top of your head.”

                “You don’t…have to say—”

                “I want to, if you still wanna listen.” Hanzo’s other hand covered Jesse’s on him, and Jesse’s vision unfocused for a few seconds from the ensuing rush.

                “No, of course.” Hanzo rarely had to consider being on the opposite side of a discomfiting personal explanation, and all his experience was failing him spectacularly. Such _elegance_ in action. “I only mean…tell me what you want to. Nothing more.”

                “I was eleven when I lost ‘em. Car accident. There was nobody around to take me in, so I ended up in the system. Would have been a lifer if not for Ana.”

                “Your foster mother. She adopted you?”

                “When I was seventeen. It was do or die if I wanted a legal next of kin. She…took a big chance doin’ that. Hadn’t had me quite a year. My first foster home…didn’t work out,” Jesse explained.

                It was obvious there was A Story in there, but Hanzo could tell just as easily that _that_ discussion was out of bounds. Jesse’s eyes and voice alike had flattened with uncharacteristic lifelessness. Reyes’ voice came back to Hanzo too late – _he doesn’t have much, okay?_ There had been a warning, and Hanzo hadn’t taken it seriously for a moment, because his own circumstances too often clouded his perspective. Surely, no one as functional-looking as Jesse could have lived as desperate of straits as he had. He chastised himself for his selfishness.

                “So you are still in contact.”

                “Oh yeah. Far as I’m concerned, she’s my second mother. I owe her…fuckin’ _everything_. She had a kid of her own – Fareeha – and she’s the sister I never had. Ri’s in the Air Force. Ana’s a trauma nurse at UMC. I go over for dinner when I can, especially since Ri left home. She plays it off, but she gets lonely with nobody else in the house. I told you I used to work at La Tumba – she, Gabe, and Jack are old friends. She got me that job: I did bar backing, dishes, all that kinda shit after I…”

                Jesse stopped dead in the middle of his sentence and looked like someone had knocked the wind out of him. Hanzo was still holding his hand and squeezed it.

                “I did mean it when I said you only need explain what you want to.”

                “I-I’m…shit, I didn’t mean to turn this into a melodrama,” Jesse replied, hanging his head. He tried to pull his hand away, but Hanzo caught it by the fingers and held it insistently.

                “I ask because I want to know you. All of you,” Hanzo confessed quietly. “If you can forgive my initial, unnecessary aggression. You could have come up with any vapid afternoon bit of frivolity and that would have been fine, but I wouldn’t have known you any better than I did on Thursday when you came to me. Simply having a good time is not my first interest. _You_ are. Whatever your past is will not bother me. It is your life, not a stage play, and I will respect that. Speaking as someone with a massive stain of trauma on my own life.”

                Relief cut Jesse’s anxiety in some measure. This still wasn’t how he wanted a first date to go, but if this was going to work between them, it was going to come up eventually, even if he hated that with every fiber of his being. He recalled the severe expression and stoicism he’d seen from Hanzo that first night at the bar; the man watching him so thoroughly now was a far cry from that, so warm and gentle and eager.

                “I-I got into…into some trouble when I was a kid. Nothin’…nothin’ serious,” Jesse continued in a rush. “I _never_ hurt anybody. Stole some cars, robbed some houses. Went to juvy for a few months. When I got out, I was placed with Ana as a last-chance kid. The job at the bar was to help me straighten out.”

                Anxiety wracked Jesse down to his tightening grip on Hanzo’s hand. He was lucky Hanzo was still listening, even more so with open patience and sympathy. There was so much more context, but…now wasn’t the time _or_ place for it. And Jesse just wasn’t ready.

                “Oh. Is…that all?” Hanzo asked carefully. “You talk about something that happened over fifteen years ago as if you just got out of prison.”

                That didn’t help Jesse feel better at all, though he knew that was what Hanzo was trying to do.

                “That _is_ it, but…it’s not, either. Y’know?”

                “I do. That is plenty for now, I think. And McCree,” Hanzo added, tilting his head to the side to meet Jesse’s eyes, “It changes nothing.”

                “I just…I know it makes me sound like a fuckup.”

                “A man who independently owns a ranch with several dozen heads of cattle isn’t a fuckup, no matter his mistakes as a child.”

                Jesse took a deep breath and nodded.

                “Thank you, Hanzo.”

                “Of course. Ah, I know. _You_ tell me something about yourself. That’s what I should have done from the beginning.”

                Jesse still hadn’t fully recovered from his panic spiral, so it was difficult to concentrate, but his mind drifted towards his most immediate and usual source of comfort.

                “You…you asked about my dogs on Thursday.”

                “I did, yes,” Hanzo replied softly. The fingers of their hands threaded together on the table and relaxed.

                “Well, the three-legged one’s Deadeye, like I told you. He’s the youngest of ‘em. A stray. He came limpin’ up outta nowhere one morning while I was making the rounds. Somethin’ bit him and by the time I found him, it was no good, the leg just had to come off. He’s absolutely useless for ranching – not because of his leg, he’s just dumb as hell. The horses like him, though. Keeps ‘em calm. I’ve had him two years now. The other two dogs are Smokey and Bandit. Don’t give me that face,” Jesse added, giggling at Hanzo’s reactionary grin. “Namin’ dogs like that should be the _least_ surprising thing about me. But they’re my ranch hands. I got ‘em when I took over the ranch proper as a little gift to myself. They’re littermates. Smokey’s a girl, Bandit a boy.”

                “They’re adorable.”

                “You been on my Instagram, ain’t you? After everything you told me about not understanding social media.”

                “Oh, I still don’t, but I know how to check the follower list on my own damn professional account.”

                That wasn’t true, of course; Genji had had to do it for him, but Jesse didn’t need to know that.

                “Maybe…you can meet ‘em sometime,” Jesse murmured.

                “I would like that,” Hanzo replied with equal shyness.

                “Great. Call it a date, then. Uh. Another one. Eventually.”

                “Perfect.”

                Their drinks arrived, and Jesse was grateful for it. He was keeping it responsible and low-key with just beer, but it’d take the edge off. That edge reasserted itself when the waitress asked about dinner, and Jesse realized he hadn’t taken a single second to consider that. Hanzo mercifully went first without missing a beat, though Jesse had no idea how he’d come to any kind of conclusion with only a few glances down at the menu. He was so poised, too, in making his requests, treating their waitress as if she might as well be working at Fleming’s up in the foothills. Jesse stuttered through his standard steakhouse order for lack of any other coherent idea in turn, soothed in part by Hanzo’s sweet, amused smile watching him. However, Jesse observation prompted a question that had been hovering in the back of his mind anew.

                “I actually have a question of my own.”

                “By all means,” Hanzo purred.

                “You say you come from money. What exactly does that mean?”

                Hanzo frowned a little, but given his little stunt just now, he was due for something of an interrogation of his own.

                “My father is CEO of a sizeable technology company. Not a household name or anything – they supply parts, not any finished product themselves. Where the real money is. Genji and I had a very comfortable living growing up.”

                “But you lost your mother,” Jesse said sympathetically, to which Hanzo looked away and nodded.

                “Yes. When I was fifteen. But…I was able to prepare for that as much as…well, anyone, not just a teenager, can.”

                “Yeah. Anything…anything is preferable to the alternative,” Jesse agreed as he drew aimless shapes with his thumb in the condensation on his half-finished beer. “Speakin’ from experience.”

                “McCree, I—”

                “It’s fine, Hanzo, I promise. Insofar as the loss, I’m okay. What happened after, not so much, but…every day’s a little better than the last.”

                “Your comment the night we met. About being… _road-worn_ was the word you used, wasn’t it? And learning to live honestly.”

                “I wasn’t just makin’ conversation, no. What’re your folks’ names?”

                “Sojiro and Nara. And yours?”

                “Russell and Leticia,” Jesse replied after a too-long beat.

                Hanzo nodded and squeezed their interlocked fingers.

                “She…taught you piano, you said.”

                “Yeah. She was real passionate about music. What with growin’ up poor in Mexico, she didn’t get to learn until high school, so she…wanted to make sure I got started early,” Jesse explained with a melancholy little smile. “Hence my comin’ back to it. Tryin’ to fix that.”

                “I am classically trained, you know. I would ask _very_ little for lessons, if you’re so inclined.”

                “I make plenty of money, Hanzo,” Jesse snickered. “That ain’t my issue.”

                “Not my price,” Hanzo immediately replied. “Just…one of those smiles of yours.”

                Jesse stuttered into silence and did indeed smile the way Hanzo had hoped he would. Hanzo leant across the table and rested his chin on his free hand.

                “You’re far too easily flustered. I’m going to exhaust myself having fun with it.”

                “You bastard,” Jesse shot back with a smile.

                “Excuse you, I have exercised _great_ restraint not doing this in front of your cabal at the bar.”

                “You’re…actually worried about that, aren’t you?” Jesse asked, suddenly serious. “You don’t need to. My ego’s gonna take the hit no matter what, trust me, but you don’t…have to _hide_ anything. Did they give you shit after I left on Thursday? I’m really sorry, we kinda…roughhouse.”

                “No, they gave _me_ no trouble, but Reyes apparently had a bet running on you with his husband, and I took some exception to that.”

                Jesse laughed and combed at his beard as he pictured the scene.

                “Did he bet for or against?”

                “Well…for, now I think about it.”

                “That son of a bitch,” Jesse murmured fondly.

                “Is it typical for him to bet _against_ you?” Hanzo asked, confused.

                “Only if he thinks I’m being a dumbass about something.”

                Understanding dawned on Hanzo; he relaxed and nodded. Reyes was…quite a concentration of contradictions, he was learning.

                “I…appreciate his vote of confidence. Especially after the shovel talk.”

                “Oh, Jesus Christ, he didn’t.”

                Hanzo shrugged, arms out to either side, and Jesse covered his face in real embarrassment.

                The rest of their dinner passed wonderfully, chatting and flirting with greater ease as they grew accustomed to each other. The sun was low and brutal when they finally left – it being the height of summer, no real relief from the heat would come until complete sunset.

                “Christ,” Jesse mumbled, shielding his eyes from the glare off a passing car. “Perfect conditions for a digestif from Eegee’s, if you’re not in a rush.”

                “From…? Oh, the fast food place.”

                Jesse staggered back theatrically, hand to his chest.

                “You tellin’ me you lived here _three years_ and ain’t had Eegee’s _once_?”

                “Should I have?”

                “Get in the goddamn truck, we’re gonna fix that right the hell now,” Jesse insisted, grabbing Hanzo’s hand to pull him across the parking lot. No argument from Hanzo, since it let him see uninhibited excitement in Jesse _and_ gave him an excuse to hold his hand. He’d go anywhere just for that.

                “Isn’t it just a slushie?” Hanzo asked, deliberately obtuse and calculated to tease.

                “Ugh, _no_ , you Philistine, it’s _an eegee’s_.”

                Initially, Jesse had planned on just ordering a standard lemon, but when he saw Hanzo’s eyes light up at the special rotating flavor – watermelon, this month – he got that instead. They took a table inside, and Jesse’s heart shot up into his throat when Hanzo slid into the booth right next to him and released the knee locks on his braces. Fuck it; he slipped an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders and let him nestle in against his chest. Hanzo offered a warm smile up at Jesse before turning his critical eye on their shared dessert as if he were judging some very important competition.

                “Hm. More like a snow cone.”

                “Better. Man, if I’d known you’d never been, I’d have brought you _here_ for dinner. I ain’t had buffalo fries in a while.”

                “Nothing but the finest cuisine for your _refined_ palate, hm. Gimmicky steakhouses just aren’t up to snuff.”

                “Fuck off,” Jesse shot back, giggling.

                Hanzo scooped up a sample in his spoon, continuing to give his treat an analyzing, icy glare before actually eating it. Jesse felt Hanzo jolt a tiny bit with suppressed delight in his arms.

                “This is…very good,” he mumbled.

                “Fuckin’ told you,” Jesse said as he aimed his own spoon at the mounded top, only to miss as Hanzo jerked it aside possessively and huddled over it. “Oh no, you little shit, you don’t get to pull _that_ now.”

                It became a tiny game of tug-of-war between the two of them in the booth, laughing at each other and play-dueling with spoons. Jesse claimed victory with a spoon-first dive-bomb attack on the eegee to claim a bite at last. Hanzo muffled his peals of laughter against Jesse’s shoulder and let himself be hugged him closer. Jesse was sure from how hot his face had grown he was probably the same color as their beverage, but he gathered his courage, buried his nose in Hanzo’s hair, and dared to kiss his scalp. Neither could bring himself to pull away for a solid couple minutes, when they sheepishly returned to eating together.

                They headed back to Hanzo’s home, hand in hand the entire drive. When Jesse relinquished their grip to put the truck in park, Hanzo’s hand hovered in mid-air waiting for its partner to return, and Jesse squeezed back when he did.

                “See? Dinner was hardly basic at all,” Hanzo said quietly.

                “Yeah. Good idea.”

                They didn’t move, even to get closer on the bench seat in the truck. No doubt this had been a rousing success, but…this _was_ only a first date. Each wondered if the other was feeling as profoundly about it as they did.

                “Let…let me walk you up,” Jesse offered, and he turned abruptly to hop out of the truck. When he opened the door, Hanzo could hardly wait to get hands on him again to help steady him as he slid out. They got to the porch and Hanzo leant into Jesse’s body – inviting, but no demand. That seemed to be the wise approach, because Jesse went a little stiff with real anxiety.

                “I can’t—” Jesse opened, but the rest of his thought died on his tongue.

                “That’s fine,” Hanzo cut in, rubbing Jesse’s arm in reassurance. Jesse seemed pretty shy – perhaps it had been too bold of Hanzo to field the invitation to join him inside in any capacity. But Jesse relaxed under his touch, easing Hanzo’s worry.

                “I’m gettin’ on a plane in the morning. Going to Houston to look into a distributor out there.”

                “Oh…oh.”

                “I’ll be out running around for a week or so. But when I get back…can we do this again?”

                “Please.”

                Jesse closed Hanzo in an embrace. His vision went blurry when Hanzo nudged up to kiss just next to a sideburn.

                “Is that a promise?” Jesse asked just above a whisper, and Hanzo chose to simply nod against his jaw, which made him hold Hanzo tighter. Like at Eegee’s, he dipped his chin and kissed Hanzo’s hairline, longer and more wistful this time. “Don’t play anything I’d miss.” They needed just a little levity before walking away tonight. Hanzo chuckled.

                “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

                They stepped away but held each other’s hands a few beats longer before letting them drop.

                “Thank you, Hanzo. Really.”

                “Not at all. You were the more courageous one.”

                “That…I just…you were worth it.”

                Hanzo’s eyes went very wide and his jaw hung open a little in shock. Too much? Too much. Holy shit. Jesse backed up for the truck, hand awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck.

                “G’night, Hanzo.”

                “McCree,” Hanzo gasped as Jesse fled, and he clearly hesitated before turning back to look. “So are you.”

                Relief made Jesse’s shoulders drop and his chest rise in a deep breath. Maybe…maybe _not_ too much.

                “Good night,” Hanzo finished gently.

                They parted, each at once exuberant and terrified.

 

~~~~

Cait's artist submissions for this chapter: the original submission sketch of Hanzo with his guitar, and Jesse's Instagram picture!

~~~~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juuuuuuust a note here that Cait's art at the end of this chapter is WHOLLY not safe for work. Happy scrolling!

               While Jesse was out of state, he and Hanzo stayed in regular contact via text. They kept it simple and light. A little teasing. Hanzo spent a lot of that time in his studio, refining a couple songs he’d been working on for months. He even sent Jesse some selfies with his instruments. A week passed, and Jesse let Hanzo know he would be home Saturday, but then that night, a text came.

                _Came home to some surprises._ _Next weekend?_

Hanzo would have been lying if he’d said his heart hadn’t sunk reading it.

                _Of course._

                Their contact became sporadic with largely concatenated messages. But then, late the week after, Genji came to Hanzo with an unexpected, promising meeting with an independent label out in New York.

                _Genji needs me to make an appearance for the staff’s edification. I cannot get out of it._

_It’s fine, your career is most important. Go be charming._

                When Hanzo came home the next Tuesday, he texted Jesse letting him know he was back, but over a day went by without an answer. Worry began digging a deep and unpleasant hole in his chest. His meeting had meant a lot of hob-nobbing, so they’d been on radio silence since his announcement that he’d needed to go out of town. Paranoia joined it in a toxic cocktail. By evening of the second day of silence, three weeks after the date that had felt so promising, Hanzo confronted his phone with dread at his nightstand. Jesse hadn’t even been to the bar in the interim, either. Time to be a responsible adult, he told himself. It took him twenty minutes and seemingly-endless drafting and redrafting to send the text.

                _I understand if you’ve changed your mind about meeting up again. Please don’t feel you need to avoid your friends at La Tumba. I won’t engage._

                Almost two hours later, just as Hanzo was starting to truly hurt at a complete lack of response even to his last missive, his phone rang. Jesse’s name was on the screen, and fear strangled his lungs. Four rings went by before he pulled together the courage to answer.

                “Wait,” Jesse said, sounding out of breath.

                “For?” Hanzo asked, genuinely confused.

                “Me. Wait for me. I didn’t…I thought you’d be back on Monday, so I didn’t…I didn’t think I needed to let you know. I ain’t had my phone.”

                “You…”

                “I ain’t seen your texts til just now. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. It…I have a reason, I promise. I ain’t changed my mind about anything.”

                “Oh. That…that’s fine, McCree. I just…”

                “Yeah, I’d have thought the same. Probably worse. But…but…shit, I don’t…Wednesday, maybe?”

                Jesse sounded just shy of panicked. Hanzo felt compelled to hold up a hand in gesture to slow down, though Jesse obviously could not see it.

                “Calm down. You don’t have to rush anything on my account.”

                “Okay, but what about Wednesday anyway? I might’ve been scared outta my skin just now, but I do want to see you again soon as I can. That’s been the case for three fuckin’ weeks.”

                Relief split Hanzo’s face in a soft smile.

                “Yes, that sounds fine.”

                “Thank Christ,” Jesse gasped on the other end. “I really am sorry.”

                “What happened? Why didn’t you have your phone for days?”

                Hesitation left a long pause on Jesse’s end.

                “Can I tell you on Wednesday? In person. Please don’t…don’t worry about it. Nothin’ to do with you.”

                Hanzo detected a distant note of the reticence he’d heard in Jesse on their date, talking about his past and his family. Even if he was miffed, he needed to learn his lesson and respect Jesse’s space after his massive faux pas.

                “Okay, that’s fine.”

                “I know I’m not really in a position to be makin’—”

                “McCree, _hush_. Your life is yours. You invite me in on your terms. If anything, I should apologize for letting my…enthusiasm get the better of my rational mind.”

                “Couldn’t be mad at you if I tried. Wednesday, then. I’ll come by ‘round 5, hell or high water. In fact – oh _hell_ , that’s right – I’ll have a surprise for you.”

                “Oh?” Hanzo asked with more of his usual, husky swagger.

                “Yeah, I’d kinda…planned ahead of myself. Whatever, it’s fine. You’ll see.”

~

                Five o’ clock on Wednesday arrived with a rich throttling sound that pulled Hanzo away from pretending to read. His eyes darted back and forth with disbelief mingled with confusion as he tried to understand. Was that…just a _passing_ motorcycle? No, it was too close, and the engine had clearly been turned off. But why…

                A knock interrupted his thoughts and he hauled himself up from his chair, impatient for his braces to lock, and answered.

                “McCree,” he said, and was little ashamed of himself for the involuntary relief that had leaked in there as if he’d thought Jesse wouldn’t show. Jesse peeked in the door and looked around before relaxing a bit.

                “Hey there.” Jesse replied. He was decked in a soft brown leather jacket and holding a helmet.  “Your brother ain’t here?”

                “No, he lives a couple miles away. He did when we first came to Tucson, but…that was untenable.”

                “Oh?” Jesse asked hesitantly, but Hanzo assuaged his worry with a dismissive wave.

                “I love my brother dearly, and I cannot imagine my life without him, but we _will_ kill each other if made to spend too much time in each other’s space. We learned that lesson _thoroughly_ upon moving here. So calm down, he’s not here to interrogate you _._ ”

                “Ah, okay. Fair enough. I believe I promised you a surprise.”

                Hanzo leant aside to peek over Jesse’s shoulder outside, though he couldn’t see the driveway properly from here. So he _had_ heard correctly. Hesitance made his feet seem made of concrete.

                “You—”

                “Shh. Just…come look. Give it a chance,” Jesse reassured so gently Hanzo’s heart felt like it would burst in his chest. He offered a gloved hand and Hanzo took it. “This was meant for the _third_ date, but…we kinda fell off schedule there, and my mechanic got done sooner than expected.”

                Jesse’s Victory Octane was parked right up by the garage door, but sign of excess equipment where Hanzo didn’t expect caught his eye. Additional pegs were on the back, but they were a little different. They were wider than the ones for the driver, reinforced from underneath with extra, nonfunctional piping, and were heavily-toothed to make sure the rider’s feet didn’t just slip off the space.

                “I told him you might have trouble keepin’ grip with your legs on the bike, so he engineered somethin’ himself. I guess I kept him up a few nights on gearhead forums asking advice, from what he told me.”

                No immediate answer came, so Jesse looked over to Hanzo and found him staring emptily at the bike with glossy eyes. He had his lips pressed together so firmly, they’d gone white. Jesse got between Hanzo and the bike and put his hands on his shoulders.

                “I-I…if this brings back memories you don’t—”

                “I love it,” Hanzo cut in more as a reflex than a conscious answer. His voice was very thick. He didn’t speak again for several moments as he tried to compose himself. Eventually, one tear escaped him as he stared up at the sky, which he swept aside hastily. All the while, Jesse pet at the corners of Hanzo’s shoulders with patient strokes of both his thumbs. “Don’t breathe a word of this to Genji.”

                “Scout’s honor, sweetheart,” Jesse replied, unwittingly slipping in the pet name. Hanzo pulled Jesse in for a deep, aggressive hug.

                “This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Hanzo murmured.

                Jesse couldn’t find the words to respond, so he just held Hanzo tighter and slipped a hand up into his hair draped down one side of his shaved head. Even when they pulled away, they didn’t let go, arms woven together holding each other’s torso.

                “I’m glad you like it, but…mind you, I’m nervous as _hell_ about puttin’ you on it. I ain’t goin’ on the interstate or nothin’, okay?”

                “That’s just fine. Wise, as a matter of fact. Without a cushioned back, I doubt I can ride for terribly long anyway without straining my back, even holding onto you.”

                “Oh, shit. I didn’t think of that. Are you sure it’s okay?”

                “Yes, for a short ride. I’ll tell you if something goes awry.”

                “Good, then I was wise investing in a second helmet,” Jesse replied, pointing to the matching one he had sitting on the backseat of the bike. “You can take my jacket.”

                “Don’t be ridiculous, you need it. I still have my old riding jacket.”

                “You…do?” Jesse asked, a little surprised, and Hanzo’s countenance grew a little shadowed and rueful.

                “Yes. I…I wasn’t wearing it…that day. It was a hot summer. I certainly learned a lesson.” Hanzo handed Jesse his keys – that would be quicker. “Just inside, in the entry closet. It’s blue and black.”

                “Got it.”

                A quick dash inside provided a first glance of Hanzo’s home; it was decorated in modern taste, lots of sharp edges and long lines, save for a dark grey, cushy easy chair in the living room he could just see from the foyer. He spotted a remote connected to it – one of those power chairs that could help a person stand. Made sense, even with Hanzo’s braces. He probably didn’t wear them all the time, or even a majority of the time. Jesse had only seen him on short stints outside, after all.

                The jacket was tucked away in the far end of the closet, treasured but clearly unused. It was the real-deal, too, professionally-tailored and heavy-duty. This was a _racing_ jacket, not just for leisurely afternoon jaunts. Jesse hitched it up into his arm and left, locking the door behind him.

                “Hell of a frock,” Jesse offered as he returned and handed the jacket off.

                “Yes. I used to spend a considerable amount of time at Fuji Speedway. I’d take whole weekends out there. The staff knew me well and a few even tried to convince me to go pro.”

                “Is…is that where…”

                “No. I was in Tokyo. I lost control on a side street in Shibuya. Fortunate it wasn’t a major intersection during the day – I could have easily killed someone with the bike when it spun out. My brother, some friends, and I had been out all evening. And the answer is no, I wasn’t drunk. Just incredibly stupid.”

                “Oh my god, Genji…?”

                “Was there, yes. He’s far more traumatized by the day than I am. I remember very little of it. But I…failed to realize that for a long time.”

                Hanzo’s vision grew unfocused from memory, recalling the night his brother had confessed all his struggle in the aftermath to him the first few months after they’d come to Tucson. He shook his head and rolled his shoulders to clear the fog.

                “Let’s go.”

                “Okay,” Jesse replied gently. “Sorry.”

                “Like I told you at the bar: I want you to know. You’re gracious enough to let me do so on my own time.”

                “You’re doin’ it for me. Only kind to return the favor.”

                Jesse gestured to the bike as invitation, and Hanzo took his hand. They sat him side-saddle on the bike first, and with coordinated effort, got his left leg over the body, unlocked his knees, and set his feet up on the pegs. Hanzo shifted his feet sluggishly to test the purchase on the pegs and found it satisfactory, so Jesse hopped on. He froze up briefly when Hanzo snaked his arms around his middle and nestled in close against his back.

                “Cozy?” Jesse asked with a light air he didn’t feel in any way whatsoever.

                “Very,” Hanzo purred back, and any veneer of cool Jesse still maintained evaporated.

                “That’s good. Yep. Great.”

                Hanzo laughed and patted Jesse’s torso reassuringly where he held it. Best to just start the engine and let the bike provide a distraction. They took their time, driving through town to limit their speed up Congress Street north towards the mountains and in the direction of the National Forest. Jesse had no idea if Hanzo had ever gone out into the desert, but it was the perfect, slow route for a ride like theirs.

                Saguaro were everywhere in Tucson’s city center, but the forest was something altogether different. In some ways it was eerie, watching these unnaturally-tall trunks slide by as they drove in a seemingly-endless pattern up into the mountains. It felt a bit like standing in the graveyard; not so much the sense of death as it was that the faceless monuments were _watching_ you. Someone had told Hanzo ages ago how they didn’t grow additional arms until they were nearly a hundred years old – some of them in the forest had four or _five._ Such a little thing that, once known, added a bizarre mystique of timelessness. Hanzo was rapt, trying to pick out the unique details in the cacti closest to the road as they passed them.

                Given the helmets and road noise, they couldn’t talk, but Hanzo let his appreciation be known in arm squeezes and even a couple bold strokes of his hand up Jesse’s leather-clad chest. They made it all the way out past the Desert Museum and up to a scenic stopoff along the road for a break. Sunset wasn’t far away, so there was no time to actually visit, but it still made for a stunning view of the greater desert.

                “That drive was…something else,” Hanzo said once he removed his helmet. Jesse nodded knowingly to himself as he ground out the cigarette he’d been smoking on the ride into the asphalt.

                “So you ain’t been out this way. We should come back up some weekend and go on the proper tour.”

                “No, not at all. I had no idea the park was so close. People talk about it, but…I feel foolish not having realized.”

                “You don’t drive, Han, it makes sense.”

                “And I suppose this is the ideal way to make the introduction,” Hanzo added, fixing Jesse with a smile that left Jesse feeling lightheaded. They dismounted and began circling the parking lot on foot. Their hands nudged each other and ultimately met, fingers woven together. Quiet sat comfortably between them on their somewhat pointless walk until Jesse grew a little tense.

                “You asked why I didn’t have my phone.”

                Hanzo looked over in surprise. He’d almost forgotten.

                “I did. Do you still want to tell me?”

                “It was…the anniversary. I take a few days off every year since I’ve had the time and money to do it. No matter how old I get, this time of year fucks with me. It never just passes me by. This year I fucked off up to Mount Lemmon and turned off my phone. My people know about it and just keep things on autopilot for me. You said you had to go outta town anyway, so I didn’t…I kept it to myself. Even though I told you about it, I just…”

                “That’s your right, McCree.”

                “Maybe. The timing was just bad. I can’t just…tell you that over a text. Nothin’ to do with you, like I said. _I_ can’t do that. Not bein’ able to see your face, your reaction tellin’ you would just…make me assume the worst of everything and it’d make me anxious.”

                Hanzo nodded his understanding but hesitated to respond with his followup question.

                “Go ahead,” Jesse nudged softly.

                “Uh…okay. Is that…common for you? The anxiety?”

                “Yeah. I’m clinical. I didn’t get diagnosed until after high school, though. Believe it or not, I used to be worse.”

                “I didn’t intend—”

                “Jokin’, sugar. So that’s that. Again, I’m sorry for scarin’ you.”

                “Same. The meetings out in New York ran my nerves ragged.”

                “Did it go that bad?”

                “No, the opposite. They liked the demo. They liked _me,_ which is…never a guarantee. You’ve met me. There’s a reason Genji handles all of this as the face of the operation. It’s…it’s close, McCree. The closest I’ve ever been. Contract negotiations have begun. But I can’t let myself find promise. I’ve been let down far too many times for that.”

                “That’s so goddamn exciting, though,” Jesse replied, and raised their linked hands to kiss Hanzo’s knuckles. “What happens if it goes through?”

                “Well, very little changes. I was already working on a new album. Nothing is public, yet, so it would just be adapting the work I have already done through the label and its publisher instead. And…plan a tour. Which would…would mean I would not be home often.”

                “Oh, yeah,” Jesse murmured with more muted excitement, but Hanzo stopped their walking to stand in front of Jesse, hands on his chest.

                “But that would be, y’know, a year or so from now, probably. Insofar as a tour, I mean. I would need to be away for publisher business, too, but not as much as a tour would demand. Just…something to keep in mind. A year is a long time.”

                “Anything could happen,” Jesse agreed, slowly nodding.

                “Y-yes.”

                “And you know I run outta town every now and again. That could...could make for a lot of near-misses. Like…” Jesse’s expression wilted. “Like what happened this month with us.”

                “Yes,” Hanzo repeated, equally crestfallen.

                Neither spoke for a little while, though Hanzo closed the distance between them in an embrace to ease both their minds. Jesse took to stroking up and down Hanzo’s back and considered their mutual, pessimistic realization. Both were clearly upset by the prospect, but they’d also come to that realization by mutual cognizance of each other’s life. Because what was going on between them was starting to matter as much as what they’d done up until they met.

                “What do you want to do about that?” Jesse murmured at last, encouraged by his little train of thought. “I want to make it work.”

                Jesse could feel Hanzo’s face scrunch in emotional reaction against his neck.

                “This is all academic right now, so any plan would be, too, but…I will remember this when – _if_ – something comes together for my career. You would have every right to leave now, knowing what I just told you, no matter how unrealistic it is in the short term. Whatever happens, I will keep trying to get signed, and this would be the outcome if I signed today or two years from now,” Hanzo explained.

                “As it should be. It’s what you want out of your life. You deserve it after what you’ve been through. I’ll be the last one on Earth to stop you, and I’m no quitter, either.”

                Hanzo pressed a long, firm kiss against the collar of Jesse’s shirt just visible through the vee of his unzipped jacket.

                “You’re a saint. Let’s head back.”

                Jesse got them back just after sunset – the throttle of the engine died in the driveway, but Hanzo made no move to attempt climbing off the seat. He’d need Jesse’s help, he told himself, but just as true was his unwillingness to relinquish his hold around Jesse’s waist _just_ yet. One of Jesse’s hands let go of a handlebar to cover Hanzo’s on him and squeezed it.

                “You have a good time?” he asked quietly.

                “Yes. I haven’t…done this since the accident. You have no idea how much I miss it.”

                “Seriously?”

                “Not many people are willing – or even terribly aware, to be honest – to accommodate a bike for my condition.”

                “True. I had to go askin’ about the pegs I put on, after all.”

                At last, Jesse reluctantly pulled Hanzo’s hand away so he could dismount. He fussed with the kickstand, making damned sure the bike was stable before extending a hand to Hanzo, who offered him a soft, grateful smile. Jesse’s heart skipped more than a few beats to see it. Slowly, Hanzo got his left leg up and over the body of the bike, using one hand to lift and guide his leg while Jesse balanced him with the other. When he stood, Jesse stayed close, one arm under Hanzo’s and visibly concerned until the knee locks on his braces engaged. The stress bled out of him, making his shoulders fall. Hanzo watched it all, filled with warm appreciation. The tender thoughtfulness Jesse expressed in modding his bike wasn’t grating because he hadn’t drawn overwrought attention to it, but nor was it grating because he’d done it to _share_ something with Hanzo. Nervous though Jesse may be in acting as he was, he seemed to intrinsically understand it wasn’t about demonstrating for himself as much as it was recognizing when and where Hanzo needed a different kind of space to blend into Jesse’s life as it already existed. Hanzo circled Jesse’s waist with his arms again and planted his face in his chest.

                “Thank you.”

                Jesse could only nod and buried his nose in Hanzo’s hair. They stood like that for a while, soaking each other up in the liminal spacetime that prospective goodbyes occupy. Whatever shampoo Hanzo used made his hair smell like forest and petrichor; Jesse couldn’t get enough. He passed a pair of calloused fingertips across Hanzo’s temple in attempt to wrangle a few strands of errant hair that had slipped loose from the rest; Hanzo tilted his head into the touch, and Jesse was _sure_ he’d never seen anything so delicate and precious as the contentment in the arc of Hanzo’s lifting eyebrows. His eyes had fluttered shut in his private rapture – when they opened again, Jesse was waiting right there for him, watching whatever show he’d been putting on with rapt attention.

                Jesse watched a coy smile sprout on Hanzo’s face. Whatever dumbfounded look he was so amused by was quickly overrun by Hanzo’s insistent pull on Jesse’s neck to bring him in for a kiss. As Jesse imagined, hoped, and possibly even prayed for once or twice, Hanzo’s full, plush lips were eager and overwhelming against his. Nothing about the man was patient or deliberate – hunger defined Hanzo in every way, right down to his harried, desperate tug on Jesse’s lower lip. It was going to leave his mouth a touch red as proof of their just-this-side-of-seemly outdoor display. Concern about appearances, remote though they already were for Jesse, evaporated entirely when Hanzo surged back in for another pass.

                “Jesse,” slid off Hanzo’s tongue just before it teased its way between Jesse’s teeth parted in a starstruck gape. Hanzo grinned around Jesse’s tongue when rough hands caught a convenient edge on his hip braces and yanked him forward so they were flush against each other.

                “Y’ain’t called me _that_ before,” Jesse hissed, and Hanzo had to school himself from tipping his head back in naked delight for whatever neighbors he was sure were watching, now.

                “I’ll do it again and more. Inside.”

                Hanzo led the way in shuffling steps, but Jesse didn’t want his hands to be empty of him even for a moment, so he followed patiently behind, hands on Hanzo’s waist. When Hanzo tried to unlock his front door, Jesse teased the crook of his neck with his beard and snuck a kiss in before Hanzo swatted at his thigh with a low, ragged giggle. They didn’t get far; soon as they got over the threshold, Hanzo pushed Jesse into a wall next to the door. Jesse kicked the front door shut for him just in time to meet another deep and messy kiss. Hanzo was bossy as hell, aggressively pulling at the zipper on Jesse’s leather jacket with a spat curse. Jesse _liked_ bossy.

                “Where’m I goin’, sugar?” Jesse purred as Hanzo freed him from his first layer.

                “Left, down the hall,” Hanzo replied and ripped off his own motocross jacket. He took Jesse by the hand and pulled him along. Again, it was a little slow going – just enough to let Hanzo consider what he _wasn’t_ doing, what he _couldn’t_ do like he had in his twenties. Jesse picked up the anxiety in the sudden involuntarily-tight grip on his hand. He made a small detour by getting in front of Hanzo and pulling out the knot he kept his hair in. He didn’t let Hanzo get an attempted word in edgewise with another kiss that made Hanzo moan back and scrabble at Jesse’s shirt. All the while, Jesse’s fingers rubbed into Hanzo’s scalp to make his hair part and fall, his broad shoulders and greater height enveloping Hanzo from seemingly every forward angle.

                It worked; Hanzo shoved his hands into Jesse’s chest to get him stumbling backwards into his room. Not to be outdone in enthusiasm, Jesse effortlessly picked Hanzo up wholesale, unperturbed by the braces keeping Hanzo’s legs unbent, and put him in bed in one fluid circle. He only got a few seconds to enjoy Hanzo’s aroused shock before he was yanked down by the collar.

                A blind hand pawed along Hanzo’s thigh while his face was otherwise occupied until they found purchase on the vinyl it was searching for. He tore open the dual velcro straps on the right leg and quickly followed up on the left, but that was all he could assume was safe to do.

                “Knees,” Hanzo panted between kisses.

                “Shit, right,” Jesse said, reaching for the third and final straps. He barely registered the harsh ripping sound of their removal, distracted by Hanzo’s hands unbuttoning his shirt to spread across his bare chest with its thick carpet of dark hair. With that done, Hanzo took over parting the plastic panels around his thighs with practiced ease, and Jesse backed up enough to pull the braces straight back and off his legs entirely.

                “They’re fucking plastic and titanium, Jesse, _get back here,_ ” Hanzo barked when Jesse handled them with a little too much mindful deference for his patience. He did as asked and finished the work Hanzo started in peeling off his button-up. He bent over and shoved the hem of Hanzo’s long-sleeved shirt up to kiss his way down from the sternum while he got to work undoing the fly of his jeans. Any hesitant question Jesse may have been harboring about sensitivity died when he wedged his hand in for a first sample; Hanzo gasped and his fingernails bit lightly into Jesse’s back.

                “I gotcha,” Jesse whispered when Hanzo lifted his hips best he could to help pull his jeans off. They stayed pooled at his knees for a moment so Jesse could mouth over the damp spot growing in Hanzo’s briefs.

                Until he heard a pained hitch. A flinch came with it. He pulled off in a flash, but his fingertips were pressed into Hanzo’s thigh as a comforting gesture and Hanzo did it again, his whole body jolting in a half-moment as if hit with a live wire. The skin under Jesse’s hand trembled, and not in a good way.

                “Han?”

                Hanzo’s hands covered and clawed into his face – he didn’t respond beyond a loud, shaky exhalation.

                “No, no no no baby,” Jesse tried to take Hanzo’s hands, but they remained glued in place. “Tell me what I done wrong, it won’t happen again, _please_.” He straddled Hanzo’s body but was mindful not to sit and put his weight on just in case. At this point, he was only touching above the belt, cocooning Hanzo’s head and chest and lips pressed to his crown. Still, Hanzo winced again, though less this time.

                “Honey, I’m so, so s—”

                “It’s called spasticity,” Hanzo began flatly, though it was a bit muffled by his hands. Jesse tried again to nudge his hands away and succeeded, though Hanzo stared up at the ceiling, past Jesse’s openly-sympathetic eyes. “The muscles in my legs aren’t fully responsive, so they can be given to spasms when—” He fell off and shut his eyes in shame. “It can happen over nothing, too. They…hurt. You did nothing wrong. Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t.”

                “I understand,” Jesse murmured, at a complete loss. There was probably no good way to respond.

                Hanzo’s arms had wound tentatively around Jesse’s neck, but his touch grew increasingly stiff as he continued to be avoidant.

                “Maybe you should go.”

                Jesse reached around to take one of Hanzo’s wrists and kissed the knuckles of his hand. He took his time gathering his thoughts and only spoke when Hanzo’s grip grew tight and anxious.

                “You said _should._ Who’s that up to? Because if it’s me, I’d rather not. But if it’s up to you, I will.”

                For a full minute, their eyes locked in a staring contest. Jesse’s empathy filled his expression, steady and confident, while Hanzo’s attempt at stoicism eroded and ultimately crumbled.

                “Stay,” was all Hanzo said, voice thick with emotion.

                “Okay. Okay, sugar.”

                At last, Jesse backed off to give Hanzo some space. The jeans left at Hanzo’s ankles finally came off, but they kept themselves as they were beyond that. Hanzo hauled his lower body up to sit properly, legs moving as if they were several times heavier than their actual weight. Little spikes of pain lanced up through his hips from the movement; Jesse held his hand as he rode them out. A hoard of pillows propped up on the headboard made an ideal nest for Hanzo; Jesse waited until he was properly settled and comfortable to snuggle in next to him. He laced their fingers together and squeezed. It took a moment, but he got one back. Hanzo turned on the TV to fill the painfully dead air and they stayed that way, silent, for nearly an hour. Inch by inch, Hanzo relaxed and melted into Jesse’s body as he held him.

                “It’s humiliating,” Hanzo suddenly spoke. Jesse stroked his thumb up and down Hanzo’s bicep.

                “I know.”

                When Hanzo didn’t continue, Jesse grew a little squirrelly.

                “Was…was that your first—”

                “No.”

                Jesse nodded to himself, relieved.

                “It _was_ the first time it mattered, however.”

                Jesse reached over to turn Hanzo’s chin and look him in the eye.

                “That past tense is temporary. Look, I don’t know what to say. You’re probably used to that, but it’s still fuckin’ frustrating. I wanna tell you it doesn’t matter, and…and it _doesn’t_ , but I know good goddamn well it _does_ , too, all at the same time. There’s no pretending I have to consider a whole lot of extra shit I wouldn’t need to for someone else. And that’s okay. I’ll…I’ll figure it out.”

                “Your attempt to enter into this eyes wide open is appreciated, Jesse, but I am _living_ it and am still uncovering unpleasant surprises even now. _I_ haven’t figured it out. The moment I believe I have something about my condition in hand, something changes. Or something I thought I had managed resurfaces, and I am right back at day one again, remembering it didn’t used to be like this. In many ways, that is far worse than any of my physical issues. Just ask Genji.”

                “I can see that after tonight. Havin’ your circumstances blow up in your face at the worst possible time is…I _get that,_ believe me. You got hurt. I’ll never know what you did or were like before it happened, and I don’t care. I mean…I _care_ , you know that, it’s just that I don’t care in all the ways that mean I’m here to…to help? Shit, that ain’t right either, you don’t _need_ my help. I’m here. I’m just…fuckin’ _here_. And I wanna be. I like you. I like everything about you that’s…that’s right here.”

                “Jesse…”

                “The only thing that’s gonna stop me from following through on anything – whether it’s sex or just dating you or _whatever_ – is you tellin’ me no.”

                Nothing, no one was this good. Not in Hanzo’s life. He was going to wake up and it would be the day he and Genji scheduled for the first show at La Tumba, and Jesse would never materialize. This couldn’t be real – he hadn’t had luck like this in years. But Jesse felt real enough when Hanzo tilted his head aside to accept a sweet kiss from him.

                “Go get my guitar. It’s in my living room.”

                Jesse nodded and slid out of bed to comply. As promised, it was sitting neatly in an upright stand next to a comfy-looking chair for Hanzo’s easy access. He returned and passed it off with a quick, reassuring kiss.

                “Private concert just for me?” he teased gently.

                “Perhaps a bit. I just…it always helps me feel better. It was all I had for a long time after I got hurt.”

                Warm, soft chords overpowered the tinny noise from the TV humming nonsense into the void of the bedroom. Jesse didn’t crowd Hanzo so he could play, but kept a loose arm circled at his waist to have at least a little contact.

                “So you weren’t doing this full-time before the accident?”

                “No. Six years ago my hair was full, but short, I had no tattoos or piercings, and was being groomed to take my father’s job. I was the picture of a proper Japanese businessman.”

                “O-oh. And…after?” Jesse asked, trying his best not to be presumptuous, even if he obviously knew how it ended.

                “Father and I discussed the possibility of continuing. He was open to it, as was I. The board of directors was not, however. All I know is they said no. Father refuses to speak of it.”

                “Jesus.”

                “It was for the best. I was in no condition to take on that kind of stress _then_ , I still wasn’t three years later, and I barely am _now_. But it was still a failure, and it still…hurt. I didn’t simply ruin my _own_ life plan that day.”

                “You can’t tell me your dad thinks you ruined _his_ life. No way.”

                “I don’t know _what_ he thinks. I don’t have to. His opinion is immaterial. The fact remains: there was a plan. I ruined it. It’s taken me several years to accept that and believe I can make something new of that ruin. I am still working on convincing myself I deserve it.”

                Hanzo grew increasingly fascinated with his guitar as he hid himself in watching his fingers pluck runs of notes in random keys. Jesse lent in and kissed his temple, nose a bit tickled from brushing the stubble comprising Hanzo’s fade.

                “For what it’s worth, I’m glad it got you out here and running wild. Inking up and filling your face with studs. Suits you.”

                “I have found a lot of success here. Many good things. But tonight marks the first night I don’t _completely_ regret what caused it.”

                The strumming gained structure and key. Within a couple notes, Jesse recognized what Hanzo was playing and kissed his neck. Hanzo had begun randomly in the middle; Jesse waited for the bridge to end and began singing quietly along to Hanzo’s chosen song: _Peaceful, Easy Feeling._

                “You told me you like the Eagles,” Hanzo explained, soft laughter filling his voice as Jesse murmured the words into his skin. “But if you ever ask me to play _Take It Easy_ I might have to break my guitar over your head. Did you know it’s the state fucking song? It _should_ be, for how many fucking times I’ve had to play it in a dive bar. I bet most of them have never even _been_ to Winslow.”

                “I been,” Jesse purred.

                “Of fucking _course_ you have.”

                “It ain’t just Arizona, y’know. People turn up for _Take It Easy_ everywhere. Like, everybody, even if they claim to not like the Eagles.”

                “I don’t. I absolutely do not turn up for the Eagles.”

                “So, you turn down for what, then?” Jesse shot back coyly, and Hanzo’s eyes went wide with punnish indignation. He slapped Jesse hard on the thigh as he howled at his own joke.

                “You’re the fucking _worst._ ”

                Jesse paid the insult no mind and hugged Hanzo to his chest, rocking them a bit as he continued to giggle to himself. Hanzo set aside his guitar to hold Jesse’s hands around him. At length, a realization came to mind from their conversation.

                “You said tattoos. I don’t see any, but then I ain’t finished what I started,” Jesse said quietly. He caught Hanzo’s left hand pulling in a fist and worry clutched his gut again.

                “True. I only have one, but…I made it count. Let go for a moment.”

                Hanzo reached over his head and pulled his shirt off by the back of the collar – Jesse could only see a flash of dark on his shoulder disappearing into his shirt until Hanzo sat up again. Peeling away the sleeves revealed an ornate shoulder-to-wrist tattoo of a dragon wrapping around his arm, set within storm clouds and lightning.

                “It’s like your guitar,” Jesse murmured.

                “You’ve been scrolling my Instagram,” Hanzo replied slyly. “Yes. Similar. I rarely display the tattoo, and I wanted to put the motif on something I cared about that would be seen. It’s still relatively new – it took me a year after moving here to find someone with the proper resume to take on the commission. Tattooing scar tissue is difficult. She was paid _handsomely._ ”

                As Jesse smoothed his hand down Hanzo’s arm, he understood the hesitance: it was _all_ scar tissue, he realized. He could tell from that strange, almost puffy resistance it had to the touch, along with the uneven ridging hidden by the ornate artwork. Further down, under Hanzo’s arm, Jesse could see more obvious patches of scar tissue all along Hanzo’s left side, ribcage to hip.

                “ _Oh_ , baby,” Jesse murmured, compassion thick in his tone; Hanzo’s chest surged with respondent gratitude. His past revelations had netted stunned silence, or nervous stutters. Jesse buried his nose in Hanzo’s shoulder and kissed, though Hanzo only knew that because he was watching.

                “I don’t feel much, as you can imagine. Just…so you’re aware,” Hanzo explained.

                “Yeah. But you got plenty other real estate, I already found it. Oh, what are _these?_ ” Jesse replied knowingly, and a thrill lit Hanzo’s gut. One careful finger circled one of Hanzo’s nipples, pierced with a simple, short bar. “You’re full of surprises.”

                “Uh. I, um. Just,” Hanzo breathed, obviously a bit shaken from the indirect contact. “Take it easy. After injuries like mine, it can, um…make everything more sensitive. Getting these done was… _a task_. I’d have died from embarrassment if I hadn’t been so determined to finish.”

                “Jesus _fuck_ , Hanzo, you can’t just _tell_ me shit like that.”

                Hanzo trailed his hand behind him up the side of Jesse’s head and threaded his fingers in his hair.

                “I can. I did. Do something about it,” he rumbled. “Anything you need is in my bedside table.”

                “Sure?” Jesse replied, though he teased the crook of Hanzo’s neck with his beard. He pulled away and took a peek in a drawer – as promised, there was some lube waiting in there for him, along with a small assortment of toys. Something to look forward to. “Tell me if anything ain’t right, okay?”

                Hanzo turned his head in to kiss and press his nose against Jesse’s sideburns when he returned.

                “You’ll know,” he replied, and Jesse recognized the soft gratitude and wonder tingeing Hanzo’s words, too.

                “Then c’mere,” Jesse said, and made room to pull Hanzo into his lap properly. He brushed the same nipple again with a thumb, and Hanzo shuddered against him. When he actually put pressure on and held it, Jesse was astonished to watch Hanzo actually writhe in place. He was only trying to test for threshold; it didn’t take much before the panting grew pitched and sharp.

                “I-I’ll come if you keep that up, Jesse, _please._ ”

                “Goddamn, sugar, you ain’t kiddin’. Sorry.”

                Jesse let go and spread his palm wide to pet up and down the middle of Hanzo’s torso. Getting Hanzo off in less than a minute had _not_ been his plan, so he contented himself for a while with marking up the good side of Hanzo’s neck to help cool him off without letting go of the mood entirely. There was no rush, now, so Jesse took his time and dabbed on some lube for himself to tease Hanzo’s balls and taint with.

                “So, nothin’ at all over here?” he asked.

                “Nothing. Tried some biting with others in the past. No good until my wrists,” Hanzo explained between slow breaths.

                “Gotcha.”

                Time to return attention where it was most intriguing. Jesse started as before, a little more indirectly by circling with both hands; Hanzo quickly grew fidgety and took hold of Jesse’s thighs under him. Half-formed words started ekeing out of him, and Jesse patiently shushed the rambling aside. He gave twisting the ball enclosure of one nipple bar a try and Hanzo let out a long, heady moan. Beyond and well out of reach, Jesse watched Hanzo’s toes fitfully attempt to hold a curl, making his mouth water. All the twitching and restlessness in his thighs now seemed entirely positive.

                “ _Fucking_ a.”

                “Jesse,” Hanzo hissed.

                This kind of sustained, slow high was rare for Hanzo; he wanted to drown in it. He was going be _very_ lucky if his lip didn’t start bleeding before he came for how heavily he was biting it on the bigger surges of lust pooling inside him. All his earlier pain and embarrassment were miles away, now, replaced with the reassuring pressure from soft, brown arms around him and the smell of cigar in Jesse’s skin and hair. It’d be a long, _long_ time since he’d felt so perfectly fit with himself, and certainly _never_ so much so with another. He was sure his grip on Jesse underneath him was beginning to sting, but there was no helping himself.

                “More. Jesse, _please_ , _more,_ ” Hanzo whispered roughly.

                Jesse backed off the piercings to begin stroking Hanzo’s cock with his still-slick hand; he hadn’t expected him to be packing quite so much, and seeing him fully hard left him a bit dizzy. He _wanted,_ but just as much, he wanted to give Hanzo special attention. Jesse would have his day, he’d make _damn_ sure of that.

                “You’ve been hiding a goddamn monster in those jeans,” Jesse whispered. “I’m gonna ride that motherfucker forever next time, promise you that.”

                Hanzo smiled against Jesse’s neck, each breath coming hot and fast against his collarbone.

                “Yes. I want to see you fucked _raw_.”

                Jesse squeezed his hand right at the head, making Hanzo jolt and cry out. A shaking hand seized Jesse’s free one by the wrist and slapped it against his chest. He hardly needed an explanation; he pinched and pulled Hanzo’s right nipple. Almost instantly, he came, his hands reaching wildly behind him for any bit of Jesse he could touch. He arched deeply back into Jesse and his thighs shook heavily for the unusual tension being put on them.

                “Oh my god,” Hanzo panted in his comedown. “I came. I fucking _came._ ”

                Jesse frowned in confusion; wasn’t…that the point? Regardless, it must have meant something good, because Hanzo turned best he could in place to smear sloppy kisses in his beard and pet the opposite side of his face with a hand. Jesse soaked it up and leant into the attention.

                “Told you the past tense was temporary. Good?”

                “I haven’t actually come in over three years, so yes, I would say so,” Hanzo purred. He could see Jesse’s confusion and hesitance, so he kissed away the little frown marring his face. “I climax, but don’t, um…” Clinical terms felt so atonal right now.

                “ _Oh_ ,” Jesse replied, cottoning on. A delighted smile lit his face. He really _had_ done well. The pride Hanzo could see in his expression made his heart melt.

                “Yeah. Rarely.”

                “I bet you say that to every ruggedly-handsome rancher you take home,” Jesse chuckled lowly at Hanzo’s ear, and ate up the resulting smile with an eager kiss. “Let me up, sunshine. Bathroom over there?” He got a nod and slid Hanzo off his lap to find something to clean up with.

                “What about you?” Hanzo asked as Jesse worked. “Still in your jeans and everything. That won’t do.”

                “It’s fine. You’re a picture splayed out like that. Hate to ruin it makin’ you put in effort.”

                That said, Hanzo did have a point, so while he on his way back, he shed his jeans and hopped back into bed in just his briefs.

                “It’s hardly an imposition,” Hanzo suggested coyly, reaching to wrap himself anew in Jesse. He pet at the thick trail of hair that disappeared under the elastic of his underwear with the backs of his fingers.

                “I told you already,” Jesse murmured, “I want you inside me. Can’t hardly do that now, so I’m fine waitin’. Tonight was all about you, anyway.”

                _Such a gentleman_ , Hanzo thought to himself in amusement, but as he really sat with it, he realized how true it was. From start to finish on their date tonight, he’d been the definition of genteel. And here, at home in bed, it went far beyond simple politeness and into genuine affection and concern. All for Hanzo. This man _cared_ about him. _For_ him. No casual fling would have asked permission to stay, talked Hanzo down from his embarrassment… _put custom pegs on his bike to let Hanzo ride along._ Jesse wasn’t imposing himself or acting in direct interest of an official label, but Hanzo understood now that Jesse saw something… _special._ Something to keep, even in such little actual time spent together. Looking back now, Hanzo had to admit Jesse was onto something and had far more prescience than him.

                “What’s the face for, Han?” Jesse asked quietly.

                “There’s nothing special about me,” Hanzo replied, still half-absorbed in his thoughts.

                “Don’t know what you mean by that, but you’ll have to pardon me for disagreein’ on principle. Somethin’ on your mind?”

                Hanzo snaked his arm tighter around Jesse’s back, and his eyelids fluttered when Jesse’s palm dove down his side to his hip in response. This wasn’t the time to… _talk._ They understood each other well enough.

                “Stay.”

                “You told me so already,” Jesse replied slowly. He could tell it was more than a simple request for a sleeping companion. “I was just…gonna assume that holds up until you tell me otherwise.”

                Hanzo kissed Jesse at his collarbone.

                “Yes.”

~

                When morning came, Hanzo woke first. Jesse had his back to him a short distance away, half-tangled in just the sheets – perhaps he’d kicked himself free overnight from being too warm in bed. Hanzo tried to slide his way over discreetly, but that was a little difficult when his legs weren’t terribly interested in moving, so his jostling woke Jesse, who jerked a bit in surprise. The back of his skull shifted as he looked around to reacquaint with his unfamiliar surroundings.

                “Han?” he asked sleepily and rolled over so he could finish the work Hanzo started and hold him.

                “Sorry.”

                “No, darlin’, don’t sweat it. Jesus, the sun’s up…what time is it? I never sleep in this late.”

                “It’s 8:30,” Hanzo replied with a tiny laugh.

                “Yeah, and I’m usually up at five.”

                “No thank you,” Hanzo murmured, though he appeared much more focused on his fingers drifting down Jesse’s chest.

                “Yeah, well, it ain’t exactly my schedule I’m runnin’ on.”

                They snuggled into together – Jesse could forgive himself the irresponsibility of not going home last night if it gave him the best morning he’d had in years. He kissed the top of Hanzo’s head, since his face was buried in his shoulder. A responsive kiss tickled his collarbone, then another at his throat. When teeth nibbled at the skin just under his jaw on the third one, he had to pull together every last ounce of self-control he’d wrought in the past ten years to pull Hanzo away and look him in the eye.

                “I can’t stay that long, sweetheart,” he admitted softly, but chased the thought with a kiss of his own. “I want to, but…stayin’ the night was already me bein’ selfish.”

                “Unacceptable,” Hanzo grumbled through a tiny, petulant frown Jesse couldn’t help but find adorable. “If you are already up late, an hour will not matter.”

                “And then an hour becomes all morning, and then the afternoon…” Jesse replied, breaking up his words with more fleeting kisses. Hanzo’s grip around him tightened; Jesse pet his insistent arm and did his best to fight off the ache already forming in his chest. “Can I use your shower, sugar?”

                “Of course,” Hanzo said, though defeat weighed on his voice. Jesse sat up, but before he left the bed entirely, he bent over and pressed Hanzo into the mattress with a long, heavy kiss that left them both breathless when he finally parted. Their hands trailed over and past each other when Jesse slipped away, each desperate for any last bit of contact they could get. Hanzo curled himself up in his hoard of pillows and turned on the TV to distract himself from his newfound solitude.

                When Jesse emerged fifteen minutes later, he found Hanzo huddled around and clutching a massive pillow looking positively dour. For his own sanity, he got dressed before actually sitting next to Hanzo on the edge of the bed. Nothing seemed more inviting to him in his entire life than the long planes of Hanzo’s skin nestled in amongst a pile of cottony comfort. He passed his hand over a calf, dimly wondering just how much Hanzo would feel.

                “When can I see you again?” Hanzo asked. He watched Jesse’s hand sliding back and forth, rather than meet his eyes.

                “I should have the time to come see you play on Thursday. Not sure about Tuesday yet. Gotta have the vet out, don’t know how long it’ll take.”

                “All good, but when I can I _see_ you again?”

                “Oh. Um. If you want…”

                “I do.”

                Jesse flushed and smiled shyly.

                “You could come out to the ranch next weekend. See my house. Stay…a night or...or two.”

                “Two, yes. Excellent.”

                “It…I’ll have to do all my usual work, mind you, and that might get boring.”

                “I don’t care.”

                “Well, uh…okay then. Tell you what, pick you up after your show Thursday?”

                “I look forward to it.”

                At last, both of them felt it safe enough to meet each other’s eyes. This was a plan, mutually-wanted. Their individual fears of some spell breaking between them hadn’t come to pass, and they had a solid time that this would happen again. Not like after the first date that had been delayed, however unintended. The stress it had caused was real enough.

                But that also meant they no longer had any real reason to stay. The ache Jesse had been fending off reasserted itself and made his brow wrinkle. He could see its effect alike in Hanzo and reached up to hold his jaw.

                “Okay. Thursday.”

                “Tuesday,” Hanzo suggested quietly. Jesse leant in and nudged their noses together.

                “I’ll try, baby, I just can’t promise. If I can’t, I’ll text you.”

                Belatedly, Hanzo realized he was being more than a little unfair – Jesse’s work was deeply important to him. It was supposed to be teasing, but the impending departure had muddled his mood and overrode any attempt at coyness he’d usually wield.

                “Yes, that’s fine. Sorry. I’m just being obstinate.”

                “I’ll miss you, too.”

                Neither of them knew quite what to do with that kind of explicit honesty, but Hanzo decided to let actions speak for him and pulled Jesse into an embrace. He kissed the bushy joint of Jesse’s jaw and nuzzled there.

                “Okay. Goodbye, Jesse.”

                “Don’t say it like that.”

                “Shit, you’re right. I’ll see you later.”

                “There we go.”

                Still Jesse lingered, meditating on the feeling of his hand sweeping up the good side of Hanzo’s ribcage and the little bit of frisson that chased the path behind. Anything else – another kiss, touch, word – was going to seal his fate and keep him all day, so he stood in a rush and took off. Hanzo didn’t begrudge it; the feeling was mutual. Both their jackets lay abandoned in place from their hasty arrival yesterday in the foyer, tugging Jesse’s few remaining, ragged nerves, but he nicked up his own jacket, passed Hanzo’s right on by and went out the door. The resulting thud of it closing seemed to add a foley effect to Hanzo’s heart sinking into his gut.

                _Right in the truck, turn over the engine, back out._ Jesse never stopped moving, looking but not seeing as he pulled away and headed down the street. He made it barely a mile before it all caught up with him. A yawn so potent split him inside he thought he might physically split in two. The windshield grew unexpectedly blurry and it took him a minute to understand why. He swiped at his eyes in irritation. _You stupid shit, you’ll see him in a few days._

                No good; he cried a little anyway.

                Hanzo lost himself for a while in the void broken only by the flicker of the nearly-muted television. He might have even drifted off again, because he started when he came to as if from a nightmare. It was after ten. He couldn’t do this all day, or he was going to go mad. Just off the corner of his bed, he could see the end of his braces where Jesse had left them the previous night. That was too much effort and… _memory_ , so he turned to regard his wheelchair tucked into the corner on the side of the bed Jesse had slept on. He _hated_ it, but the chair was the more efficient choice for him right now, so he slid his way across the bed and hauled himself inside. Taking just long enough to wrestle a fresh pair of sweatpants on, he left his room and made a beeline for the second bedroom, which he had converted to a studio. It had been where Hanzo recorded his first album the first six months he and Genji had moved to Tucson. Now he rented a much more formal space downtown, but he kept the casual setup at home for experimentation, or days he wasn’t feeling well enough to venture out.

                Or days like this, when he simply didn’t want to be seen and the promise of disappearing into music was a singular solace. He put on headphones, jacked them into his electric guitar, and for a while played nothing in particular. Just something to fill space and time and keep him from thinking about what wasn’t there. Eventually it started to take a shape, match his mood, and he dug up a battered notebook from under a pile of cables and abandoned fast food ephemera to start writing shorthand chords in. Writing helped turn his endless pit of feeling – though, for once, it was largely _good_ feelings – into something tangible, useable. Giving it utility helped ease the pressure and he began to genuinely feel better. His mind righted itself in the stormy waters Jesse’s departure had caused, so he could remember that Thursday wasn’t far away, and held so much more possibility.

                He was approaching lightheartedness when a dull thud behind him pulled his attention away and he removed his headphones.

                “Holy _fuck_ , Hanzo, I have been here twenty minutes.”

                Genji? A glance to Hanzo’s left at his mixing laptop read 2:17pm.

                “Oh, _shit._ ” _Genji._ They had made plans. Hanzo had completely forgotten. Not being dressed was one thing: he wasn’t _showered_ , still bed-headed and, he realized to his very belated horror, dotted with hickeys along his right shoulder and the side of his neck and on shameless display since he was shirtless. If Genji had truly been standing there staring for _twenty_ minutes, there was absolutely no hiding a single thing about his state. He couldn’t find the courage to turn and look his brother in the eye.

                “Yeah, you’re exactly as fucked as you think you are. As you _look like_ you are,” Genji said with supreme smugness.

                “I fucking hate you.”

                “Look, it’s not _my_ fault that cowboy is apparently capable of erasing your memory with one application of—”

                Genji had to duck out the door as Hanzo launched a half-empty bottle of water at him.

~

                For hours, since arriving for set up, Hanzo had been glancing to the door at La Tumba. Joy flavored with just a hint of anticipatory terror had kept him operating in a haze all afternoon. He barely kept it together for his soundtest. Twenty minutes before his set, a text came – _running late, will get there soon as I can._ To say it put a dent in Hanzo’s mood would be putting it lightly; he’d been incorrigible on Tuesday after Jesse confirmed he indeed could not make it, and Genji had been just about ready to deck his brother by the end of the night over his attitude. Hanzo felt no doubt that Jesse would arrive tonight, but he didn’t have to _like_ not being able to talk with him before the show.

                He made last-minute changes to the front half of his setlist and swapped out a couple slower songs in for a more fitting, aggressive mood. At five to, he took his seat at his keyboard, but stared at the door. Nothing. The disappointment was so complete he had to concentrate and check his list on the floor to even remember what his first song would be. _Just play as if he’s here. He’ll come, and it’ll be fine._

                Jesse, meanwhile, was swearing viciously at traffic. One of his best – and chattiest – customers had kept him on the phone for nearly a goddamn hour, and _then_ he’d needed to check in with his foreman before he could even think about leaving. That put him about forty-five minutes behind. He’d wanted to get there _before_ the set, but now he’d be lucky to catch the first half at all. He almost forgot to put the car in park before killing the engine and all but run for the door. Just in time, he checked himself, thanks to the dim sound of Hanzo’s singing filtering outside. However late, Jesse couldn’t simply kick the door in. It wasn’t only them right now; he should at least attempt to behave like a rational adult.

                All the rational self-motivation in the world summed up to nothing when Jesse opened the door, however. His breath left him in a rush just to hear Hanzo’s amplified voice in full, and the heartache paired with it struck so potently he reached up to involuntarily toy with the open collar of his shirt as if he were being strapped across the chest. Jesus, had Hanzo _braided_ his undercut? Surely Jesse was about to stroke out, seeing his…his new _something_ with his hair dolled up special for him.

                “Thank god, you’re here,” Gabe came stalking up form a table he’d been serving. “He’s fuckin’ insufferable if you don’t come in. Shut him the hell up.”

                “He…talks to you?” Jesse asked, eyes narrowed in surprise.

                “No, not much, but his puppy-ass sulking is louder than hell. Fix it.”

                “I, uh. Yeah, boss. I’ll try.”

                Jesse snuck around the tables for the bar. His usual seat was taken. The _audacity._

                “Lost out, amigo. First come first serve, especially if your ass is gonna be late,” Sombra teased as he came up.

                “This is what it’s gonna be all night, ain’t it.”

                “ _Duh_. Your boyfriend’s a shit when you tell him you can’t come.”

                “Gabe, uh…told me. I…he…”

                “Yeah, yeah, it’s new, no labels, whatever. Bourbon?”

                “Well, actually…is Jack here? Can I dip into the personal stash?”

                “Oh _ho_. I’ll go get him.”

                As Sombra disappeared in back, Hanzo finished his song. He didn’t immediately continue, and a couple people came up to the stage to talk to him – good, Jesse had made it in time for his break. His attempt to curb his exuberance was tepid at best, but he decided fuck it, Gabe and everybody was going to give him shit anyway. Might as well earn it. Hanzo hadn’t noticed his arrival; he bade the visitors goodbye and turned to look at Jesse, expecting no one in particular. Jesse got to watch undisguised joy light his previously-passive face.

                “Jesse,” was all he said and yet Jesse still felt lightheaded to hear it anyway.

                “Hi. Sorry. Got tied up on the phone. I’ll make it up to you.”

                “That you will,” Hanzo replied, low and suave.

                “I meant makin’ dinner, you lech,” Jesse said, but his stupid grin was irrepressible.

                “That too.”

                On closer inspection, Hanzo looked…rather tired. His eyes weren’t as bright, even on a performance high, and his smile had a stressed crease in it.

                “What?” Hanzo asked, noting Jesse’s pinched, concerned look.

                “You okay?”

                “I am now.”

                “Fuck off, I know,” Jesse snickered. “I mean really. You’re lookin’ a little put out.”

                “Oh. Yes. I had physical therapy today. That will happen.”

                “And you’re still doing a show?”

                “It’s my job, Jesse, of course I am.”

                “That…that’s true.”

                “I started some aquatic work today. Something new. Therapy doesn’t usually hit me quite this hard. Hence mostly sitting tonight.”

                Compassion sat in the downcast arc of Jesse’s eyebrows.

                “Good. Don’t…don’t push yourself too hard.”

                “You know I’m the type to,” Hanzo said fondly.

                “I do,” Jesse replied with equal reverence. They remained that way for far too many beats in such a public venue before Jesse remembered himself. “Well, I. Yeah, I should let you…”

                He’d started to back off to leave but caught the contemplation straining Hanzo’s face. He must have made a decision, because after a moment, the wrinkles smoothed out with calm deliberation.

                “Come here,” he asked quietly.

                Understanding struck Jesse in a thunderclap through his chest. It was _permission._ He’d have been lying if Jesse pretended any concern about _being public_ hadn’t crossed his mind in the interim since leaving Hanzo’s house the previous weekend. Hanzo was a public enough figure. He had no idea if Hanzo was out in any capacity. They hadn’t discussed, well…anything _._ Reflecting on their first date, Jesse realized that _he_ may, in fact, be the only reticent one. Nobody knew who he was, but…that might change, now. He wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for that.

                But Hanzo was right there, looking at him like they were separated by six inches of plexiglass, and even Jesse’s deepest, oldest worries and reluctance couldn’t hold a candle to that face so eager and wanting. No holding back anymore; he had for far, far too many years. This was okay. He was allowed. He _deserved_ to live in this kind of happiness to his heart’s content.

                Jesse sprung up the couple of feet to get on stage and met Hanzo for a mostly-chaste kiss. A distant, ecstatic _woo_ from somewhere in the crowd made Jesse start and nearly part the kiss, if not for Hanzo’s hand at the back of his neck pinning him in place. Certainly no turning back now. They parted their kiss, but Hanzo held him there a bit longer so they could hold eyes.

                “Okay?” he asked, suddenly sheepish. “A little late to ask, I know.”

                This absolute cheeky _idiot_. Jesse shook his head and kissed him again, earning a couple more whoops from the crowd, before finally stepping away and jumping off-stage.

                “You got work, don’t you?” he offered with a wink. “Hop to.”

                The confident swagger was almost immediately dented by his heel turn back towards the bar, where Gabe, Jack, and Sombra all were standing, watching with floored expressions.

                “Where’s the Jesse I had to talk into asking someone out on a date a month ago?” Gabe asked with a rare, unrestrained grin on his face.

                “He went on that date,” Jesse shot back smoothly. “Then another. And we got one tonight.”

                “Where’re you going?” Jack asked.

                “Home. He wants to see the dogs.”

                Jack and Gabe alike returned shocked stares. Jesse _never_ took anyone home, much less… _kept_ somebody. They’d seen the depth of Jesse’s crush and knew this was more potent than most, but this had taken _quite_ a turn for serious in the space of weeks. Jesse watched Gabe’s eyes slide away to measure Hanzo up on stage, who had begun singing again, and instantly, Jesse understood what he was doing.

                “Gabe,” he preempted. “It ain’t the same.” Gabe’s eyes snapped back to Jesse and ice ran down his spine. “I promise you.”

                Jack had obviously caught on, too, because he’d reached over to circle a reassuring arm around Gabe’s waist.

                “It’s a tad fast,” Jack replied carefully.

                “He’s just stayin’ a couple nights. This ain’t a move-in.”

                Jack nodded, looking a little chastened for expressing his doubt. So much of Jesse’s life had changed for the better, so it felt almost detrimental to question him now. Gabe’s frown deepened, but the brief suspicion eased, at least.

                “I trust you, Jesse,” he finally spoke again. “Just let an old man worry.”

                “Okay.”

                “No, don’t say it like that. I mean it. I see the difference in Hanzo; I mean, _that’s_ pretty fucking obvious. Jack’s right, it’s a little sudden, but that isn’t automatically a bad thing. Just remember: we’re here for you.”

                “I don’t ever forget that,” Jesse replied, eyes now downcast with repentant reminiscing. Jack _tsked_ sympathetically and left his husband’s side to put a hand on Jesse’s forearm.

                “Stop.”

                Jesse rallied himself on command and met their gazes again with most of his usual bright affect.

                “Done.”

                “Good, you have a _date_ , after all,” Gabe replied with a tiny, coy smile.

                “Speaking of, you wanted to raid the good stuff?” Jack asked.

                “Oh! Yes, I did. If you want some cash—”

                “No,” Gabe and Jack answered in concert.

                Genji fretted at a small thread coming off the hem of his sleeve with a remote, discomfited frown. Trying to keep a lid on his days-long, constantly-simmering anger was proving more and more difficult tonight when Jesse was actually in sight. He finally got his chance when Jesse came backstage, bottle of wine in-hand, and nearly stumbled into Genji in the small space.

                “Oh,” Jesse grunted.

                “Yeah, _oh._ You think I wasn’t going to fucking find out what you did? That I’m so blind and stupid as to miss the jacket Hanzo hasn’t touched in almost six fucking years on the floor and put two and two together?”

                To Jesse’s credit, he was immediately put back on his heels and had the grace to look chastened.

                “Look—"

                “Oh, _please_ try to excuse this to me.”

                Jesse openly winced, but persevered.

                “I took a shitload of precautions, I didn’t go on any interstates. We _barely_ got over 30 miles an hour. I goddamn triple-checked with him it’d be o—"

                “Of _course_ it was going to be _okay_ with him, for _fuck’s sake._ He’d do anything to get back on a bike again. What the _fuck_ were you thinking? One accident, and he’s fucking quadriplegic, if not _dead._ ”

                “Genji, that’s just as true if he were in a car,” Jesse tried with very deliberate gentility.

                “ _Don’t you fucking dare try talking around this._ ”

                Jesus, Hanzo hadn’t been kidding when he told Jesse not to speak a word of it to Genji. And the comment about the trauma, too, came together in vivid illustration now. He could understand and even respect Genji’s obvious protectiveness of his brother, but all 5’7” of him coming at Jesse like this was _withering,_ even with neon-green hair being the foremost thing in Jesse’s sightline _._ Still, Hanzo was a goddamn adult capable of appreciating his own condition and capability, which left Jesse feeling a _little_ salty. Acting on it wasn’t going to net him _anything_ positive, however. He put up his hands in placation, bottle of wine sticking out to the side in his right hand.

                “I have no intention of making it a regular thing. This was…special, and it scared me half to death just going five miles an hour at first.”

                “Because you _know_ what can _happen_ ,” Genji shot back, not quite angry so much as…desperate.

                “I…I do. I know the numbers, even…even if I ain’t lived ‘em,” he offered hesitantly. That seemed to help, because Genji’s shoulders fell as he let out a long, stressed sigh. He didn’t speak again right away but shook his head bitterly, staring off towards the service door.

                “My brother is not an invalid.”

                “Yes.”

                “He’s very capable of understanding his own limits.”

                “Yes.” Jesse could tell these words weren’t for him nearly as much as they were Genji reminding himself.

                “I know you didn’t do this intending to go behind my back. That was _definitely_ Hanzo. You don’t have to answer to me. But I’m _still_ fucking angry.”

                “And yellin’ at Hanzo about it ain’t gonna work out too well for _either_ of us.”

                Genji’s eyebrows shot up. Surprisingly perceptive.

                “Yeah,” he conceded.

                “I get it. I ain’t gonna say _that’s fine_ because it kinda isn’t, but I do get it.”

                Genji turned away and walked a few paces from Jesse, hands up in his hair as he tried to calm himself down. Hanzo’s singing made for an awkward backing track to their argument, and now Genji looked over to the wall where his brother was performing just beyond, looking thoughtful and frustrated. At length, he returned to Jesse and got right up in his face.

                “My brother,” Genji hissed, “is a whisper from signing a record deal. This has been almost four years of _both_ our fucking lives, getting our hopes up and being crushed over and over again. He’s worried I’m wasting _my_ life, no matter how much I tell him this is what I _want_ to do. We’ve never been this close, and on my dead mother’s fucking grave, I will _not_ let anything fuck this up for him now, and least of all, some Urban Cowboy-ass douchebag sweeping him off his feet like some whirlwind bullshit Hallmark channel movie just to dump him the second the coattails won’t pay off.”

                “Got a mouth on you,” Jesse shot back lowly.

                “Prove me wrong, motherfucker.”

                “The fuck you want from me?”

                “A guarantee.”

                “ _Excuse me?_ ”

                “You fucking heard me. I want a guarantee from you. Whatever happens, if you aren’t gonna stick with…whatever the fuck you think you’re doing, you’ll let him down easy, and you’ll let him down easy _after_ this is settled, good or bad. On a _tactful_ timeline.”

                “I ain’t no fuckin’ _groupie,_ you little shit.”

                “I couldn’t give a single fuck _what_ you are. Yes or no?”

                Jesse drew up to his full height and towered over Genji.

                “No. I’d marry him right the fuck now just to spite your mouthy ass.”

                “Don’t _patronize_ me.”

                “Why not? You gotta be used to it by now, doin’ what you do.”

                Genji’s fist tightened at his side. Jesse recovered himself and held up his free hand in gesture to wait. His fistfighting days were _over_ , and he wasn’t coming out of retirement to get into it with his new…Hanzo’s brother.

                “I fucked up in your eyes. I understand why. My timing’s bad comin’ into this, too. I _get_ that. You want me to prove you wrong, I fucking will. That’s the simplest goddamn demand ever made of me, because I’m right where I want to be. It’ll get done, just shut the fuck up and _watch._ ”

                Past all the anger, Jesse could see a smidgen of desperation in Genji’s downcast eyebrows. He _wanted_ to believe that. Oddly enough, that was encouraging. Reason was bouncing around in that head _somewhere_ , and all this was an overwrought tough-guy front to sate his compulsive suspicion. Jesse might even do the same in Genji’s position. If something ever happened to Fareeha on assignment, god forbid. At once, Jesse understood the constant, dim note of exhaustion Hanzo seemed to have in discussing his brother. This kid loved the hell out of him, but _Christ_ he needed to find his goddamn zen somewhere.

                Genji’s face pulled in a deep frown and he regarded his shoes. He was chastened, but stubborn.

                “If _anything_ happens to Hanzo on your fucking bike—”

                “There ain’t anything you can do to me if that happened that could outdo what I’d do to myself, Genji.”

                It was the right answer; that took the fight out of him at last.

                “All right, fine. We’ll do it your way. I _will_ be watching.”

                Jesse gave a passive-aggressive shrug and waved him off with his bottle of wine.

                “At your own risk. Threaten me all you want, I’m still gonna fuck your brother, so keep that in mind.”

                “ _Fuck_ you.”

~~~

Cait's artist submission for this chapter: Jesse and Hanzo's first night together! ( _extremely_ NSFW)

~~~

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> per some feedback, I want to add one specific trigger warning to this chapter because Hanzo makes a single brief, explicit description of the accident that he was injured in!
> 
> additionally, uh, [nervous laughter] Cait's piece for this chapter is, uh...also very not safe for work, just so y'know!

                As they got ready to leave after the performance, he could see the simmering irritation in Jesse’s manner. He tossed Hanzo’s luggage into the bed of his truck with a little more force than necessary and  when he had handed off the surprise bottle of wine for Hanzo to hold on the drive, he’d done so without comment. Jesse didn’t seem angry with _Hanzo_ , so he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Perhaps something had happened with his friends? Genji’s poor mood continued to stand out as he’d bade him goodbye, too, but that had been the case even upon their meetup that afternoon. Was something in the water?

                As soon as they hit the road, Jesse plucked a cigarette from a pack he kept in his breast pocket and began driving with his knee to light up. He rolled down the window as he usually did and was conscientious as ever keeping it out the window, but seeing his mood left Hanzo a little apprehensive about talking it over further. For several days, Hanzo had been planning out the conversation he knew he’d have to have, even if he didn’t like it, and circumstances were making for a less-than-ideal start.

                “I have a request to make of you,” Hanzo opened hesitantly.

                Jesse’s head snapped over from watching the road to look at Hanzo. His previously-noticeable irritation disappeared.

                “Somethin’ serious? What’s wrong, darlin’?”

                “No, not serious, it’s just…inconvenient for you.”

                “Ain’t nothin’ inconvenient for me if you need somethin’.”

                That made Hanzo feel a little better, but making considerations for his health, even now, years on, was still liable to bother him. It was only more nerve-wracking doing it for someone else that was…becoming a permanent fixture in his life.

                “When we’re at your home, I…I need you to smoke outside.”

                Jesse balked; this was completely unexpected.

                “Oh. Well shit, is that all? Done. Is it a _problem_? Why didn’t you tell me?”

                “It’s fine now,” Hanzo replied, shaking his head and gesturing to the open window as they drove. “You’ve been conscientious of it without realizing and trying to keep it to when you’re alone or outside. But in an enclosed space, I can’t…I can’t be around it. I’m…at certain kinds of respiratory risk.”

                “You _what?_ ” Jesse asked at an alarmed pitch and immediately abandoned his cigarette out the window, to which Hanzo gave an exasperated sigh. This was exactly how he expected this to go.

                “I _just_ told you it’s fine, Jesse.”

                “But—”

                “The simple explanation is that I don’t feel the compulsion to cough anymore because of the nerve damage. It affects the musculature around my lungs and leaves me at risk of respiratory infections. You’re not killing me. Calm down.”

                “Okay, sorry, just…why did you keep it from me?”

                “It’s your home. You should do whatever you please without interference.”

                “I ain’t smoking for my _health_ , Hanzo.”

                “Yes, but…” Hanzo hung his head a little. “It’s just another… _thing_. You know some already. There’s more yet to learn because I’m staying overnight.”

                “How do you mean?”

                “You’ll see later, when we go to bed. Leave it for now.”

                Jesse steered with his left hand so he could reach over and take Hanzo’s across the seat. They exchanged a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

                “All right, sweetheart. It’s no trouble, I promise. None of it. And if you need anything, just fuckin’ _tell_ me, okay? The house is old. It ain’t gonna have a lot of the shit it should like your house does, and I been worryin’ about that this whole time.”

                “And you ask me why I’m apprehensive to tell you about these things,” Hanzo sighed. “Please, _please_ don’t _worry_ about it.”

                The way Hanzo said that didn’t put Jesse’s mind at ease at all. He recalled Hanzo’s words about how his health shifted on him over time – walking someone else through its nuance was probably _exhausting._ All Jesse wanted was to get it right, but…did that even exist? Pragmatism had to be modus operandi, he knew that and kept telling himself that, but this level of uncertainty wasn’t kind to his natural anxieties. Such was the case with the smoking – now, he was going to be thinking about it _constantly_ , even when Hanzo wasn’t around. He’d been kicking his own ass to quit for years; maybe this was going to be the final push he needed, but that wasn’t going to be pretty, either. Smoking had been his crutch for his anxiety since he was a teenager. Even being medicated now, coming off nicotine was likely going to have an impact he couldn’t fully account for. But that was a problem for another day, and there was no point aggravating Hanzo about it any further right now, if he thought _this_ was an imposition.

                “Worryin’ is my worst habit, but I’ll try.”

                “I know, Jesse. Thank you.”

                Not an ideal start to a first overnight at Jesse’s home. Everything about today felt doomed to be drama. They drove in silence for a few minutes before it was punctuated with a long sigh by Hanzo. He was tired from his physical therapy to begin with, and that had been compounded by his set tonight. His last nerve was dangling as low fruit for even the mildest passing irritation.

                “Sorry for being terse,” he said. “You looked like you were in a bad mood. I didn’t want to bring it up, but I _need_ to.”

                “I’m glad you did. You…you’re right, I was, but that was…nothin’ to do with you. Directly,” Jesse confessed the final word after a hesitant beat, which got Hanzo to turn and stare, eyes narrowed.

                “What does _that_ mean?”

                Now it was Jesse’s turn to sigh. He shifted his jaw to make it pop before taking to chewing his lip.

                “Genji got up in my face.”

                “ _What._ ”

                “He figured out what we did on our date, and he wasn’t pleased as peaches about it. Pretty goddamn mad,” he explained, slowly enunciating the latter sentence. In the corner of his eye, he saw Hanzo whip out his phone and make a deeply disgruntled noise. Jesse reached over, snatched it out of his hand, and tucked it under his leg.

                “Don’t. It ain’t worth it. I took care of it.”

                “If Genji thinks he can get away with—”

                “That response is _exactly_ why he yelled at me instead. I ain’t gonna let you tear your brother up after the fact. Let him be.”

                “ _Why_?”

                “He loves you, Hanzo. Doin’ what we did scared the livin’ bejesus out of him and we did it behind his back. _You told me_ about how badly he was affected by what happened. That wasn’t right, and I owned up to that, but I didn’t let him just steamroll me, either. He learned his lesson _just fine_ talkin’ with me. You’re just lookin’ to antagonize him at this point, and I won’t have you do that on my goddamn account.”

                “You are _not_ the referee of our relationship,” Hanzo seethed, dismissing Jesse with an aggressive swipe.

                Wrong answer. Jesse slowed on the highway so he could give Hanzo a long, slow look. His face was flat and affectless with the emptiness right before real and true anger came.

                “You think I can’t handle my own disagreements with your brother?” he asked in a low, sharp tone Hanzo hadn’t heard from him up until now. That stopped Hanzo up short _real_ quick.

                “I…No, Jesse, that’s not—”

                “Oh _yes_ it is.”

                “Did you think _you_ could get away with not telling me this?” Hanzo shot back. “If there’s going to be issues with my brother between us, I _need_ to know.”

                “I’m tellin’ you now, ain’t I? And I will again if necessary, if _you_ don’t fly off the handle about it.”

                “I am _not_ —” Hanzo stopped himself mid-sentence. He couldn’t even sell that lie to himself _._ Goddamn it, they were _both_ right without ever having involved Hanzo from the first. That just made him angrier. “I can take fucking care of myself.”

                “Yes, you can,” Jesse replied, gentility mixing with his still-lingering irritation. “And we talked about that. Better put, Genji reminded _himself_ and I agreed with him. That’s why I’m telling you to let it be. He got there on his own.”

                “ _Fine,_ but I know my brother. This will not be the last of it. If he’s decided he doesn’t like you—”

                “He’s tryin’ to. What he didn’t expect is that it wouldn’t work. Crawling up his ass about it is the last thing that’s going to help, and you goddamn know that. I don’t know shit about Genji and _I_ know that.”

                “Why do you _care_ ,” Hanzo snapped, but Jesse’s instantaneous and involuntarily heartbroken expression in response made him regret it the second he spoke it.

                “He’s your _brother_ , Hanzo,” Jesse said, aghast.

                “I…I know,” Hanzo replied exasperatedly.

                “He loves you.”

                “I _know_.”

                Jesse grew frustrated at the wheel, strangling it a bit in his hands and revving the engine unnecessarily as he tried to find the words to articulate his real point.

                “Then…fuckin’ _treat him right_ , Hanzo. What he’s doin’ is nosy as fuck but Jesus Christ, he’s emotionally justified. Within reason, of course. You gotta…you gotta keep that shit _close._ I won’t ruin something to keep you. I just _won’t_.”

                Hanzo tipped his head back against the back wall of the cab to stare at the ceiling.

                “You’re too fucking good, Jesse.”

                “Is there something I need to know about Genji that…that means I’m being unreasonable? Is your relationship _that_ bad? Did something happen?”

                Hanzo’s face contorted as he continued facing up and away.

                “I hit a concrete post at 60 miles an hour and skid 200 feet, _that’s_ what happened. But no, he’s…there’s nothing wrong with him, Jesse. You aren’t being unreasonable. I just don’t need the fucking… _micromanagement._ ”

                “We’re not tryin’ to, sugar. None of us.”

                Hanzo closed his eyes and tried a deep breath to even himself out. It only added to the weight in his chest.

                “I’m so tired of being a workaround. An imposition.”

                That was it; they were maybe five miles from the ranch, but Jesse pulled over on the shoulder and stopped anyway. Hanzo sat up in surprise to find Jesse staring at the wheel looking dangerously close to breaking down.

                “You ain’t fuckin’ _nothin’_ like that.”

                “Jesse...”

                “You _ain’t._ ”

                Jesse crossed the bench to sit right up against Hanzo and took his hand in a tight grip once more to kiss it.

                “Am I bein’ overbearing?”

                “No, you’re not,” Hanzo whispered back. “This is not how I wanted the night to go.”

                “Me either.”

                They snuggled in together, Jesse’s arm around Hanzo’s shoulders, and Hanzo’s head leant against Jesse’s. For their first real argument, both of them were surprised how easily this was coming to them, all things considered.

                “I’m being an idiot,” Hanzo said.

                “And I’m freakin’ out. We good?”

                “Absolutely fine. Sorry.”

                “I’m sorry, too.”

                They remained for a few minutes to calm down, but at last, Hanzo guided Jesse over for a kiss.

                “I want to meet Deadeye.”

                “Yes, sir.”

                Within ten minutes, they arrived at the ranch. It was after dark, so the house couldn’t be seen in much detail. Barking, however, could be heard, and both men lit up with anticipation. Jesse gestured for Hanzo to wait a moment, however.

                “Now hang on. They’re gonna jump all over you. Let me calm down at least Smokey and Bandit. Deadeye’s too fuckin’ stupid to listen to a whole lot, but that’s more manageable.”

                “Very well.”

                Jesse hopped out of the truck, keys jingling as he made for his front door. His voice was audible greeting his pets, bright and cheery as he named them all in turn. A warm smile crept across Hanzo’s face as he watched them through the windshield. Whistling came next; Smokey and Bandit lined up and sat. Deadeye was still wandering Jesse in circles.

                “All right, you, come on, but I gotcha,” Jesse said, holding Deadeye’s collar as he headed for Hanzo’s side of the truck. Hanzo opened the door and revealed himself; Deadeye immediately began barking again. Smokey and Bandit let off a couple woofs and leant in place, but one look and severe whistle from Jesse ended their attempt at sneakiness. Hanzo slid out, chuckling as Deadeye lunged, his single front leg pawing in the empty air against Jesse’s grip. He opened a palm to the dog and received ecstatic licks in return.

                “Hello there. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

                “All right, you, git,” Jesse said, one hand scratching Deadeye’s head in hopes of calming him, and after a minute, the dog at least stopped jumping. When the three of them made to walk in, Deadeye threatened again with his enthusiasm, but a warning _ay_ from Jesse curbed him. “Let’s get you settled first, and I’ll get your bag.”

                The door was open from letting the dogs out; Jesse let out another, different whistle and gestured at the house to get Smokey and Bandit inside. Now they were walking, Jesse could see just how exhausted Hanzo was, though he was trying to put up a front. His steps were more sluggish than usual and he wasn’t simply arm-in-arm with Jesse, but actively leaning on him.

                The home was a bit heavily-dated to the 70s, but well-accoutered. Much of the furniture probably came with the house, but bits of Jesse’s touch could be seen in the living room, with updated electronics and a newer-looking deep brown leather sofa set against a wall. A piano sat opposite, where the player would be able to look out a window. Hanzo took up residence at the sofa, and Deadeye leapt up with him and sat against his body.

                “Well, you’re fast friends,” Jesse said.

                Hanzo returned a tired smile and pet Deadeye’s head.

                “He’s softer than he looks in pictures.”

                “Yeah, he’s built to be a lapdog. You two get acquainted, I’ll be right back.”

                He went back to the truck to unload Hanzo’s stuff: a small duffel, a bigger one, and his acoustic in its case. When he returned, he found Hanzo with Deadeye invading his lap, face buried in the fur on top of the dog’s head. It was impossible for Jesse not to feel profoundly touched. To feel like…Hanzo was exactly where he was supposed to be. Scary, but also so thrilling. He took the bags and guitar case to his bedroom and left it on the bed for now.

                “I promised you dinner,” he said as he came back.

                “You did,” Hanzo said softly, though he also appeared hesitant.

                “What’s wrong, sugar?”

                “I…Jesse, I’m…”

                “Too tired?”

                “Yes. I’m so sorry, I know—”

                “Tomorrow night is just as good. You _look_ ready to drop. Braces off?”

                “Please,” Hanzo replied as a kind of defeated sigh.

                “Bed?”

                “I’m comfy here for now. Deadeye is perfect company.”

                Hanzo got the straps on his thighs and knees, and Jesse tugged them off. Belatedly, a realization came to Jesse as he stood again to take the braces away.

                “We…don’t have a wheelchair.”

                Hanzo frowned distastefully at the observation.

                “No. It’s at home.”

                “You gonna wear your braces all day?”

                “I shouldn’t, to be honest.”

                “So…?”

                “If…if it’s not too much trouble, can you just carry me? I’m fine in one place most of the day. You said you have to work anyway, so I can wear my braces periodically when necessary and for longer when you’re done. Until then, I can simply read, or work on music. Why do you think I brought my guitar?”

                “Of course I can do that. But why not bring the chair? Plenty of room in the truck.” Hanzo’s frown returned, and at once everything made sense. “You don’t like it.”

                “No.”

                “Gotcha,” Jesse replied. Tonight was not the night to argue about something _else._ Carrying Hanzo as needed was no burden. He took the braces to store in the bedroom as well before finally retiring with Hanzo on the sofa, opposite side from Deadeye already napping in Hanzo’s lap. Smokey and Bandit appeared with a single, softer whistle from Jesse and sat at his feet.

                “You have them incredibly well-trained.”

                “Told you they were workin’ dogs, didn’t I? Come on, say hello,” Jesse said, waving the dogs towards Hanzo. They each planted their front paws on Hanzo’s leg not covered by Deadeye to sniff politely at the newcomer and offer their own welcoming licks as he pet each of them.

                “I always wanted a dog,” Hanzo confessed. “But my life in Japan kept me far too busy for one.”

                “Well, here you go,” Jesse replied warmly. “Three of ‘em, and none of the expense for you.”

                Hanzo passed the sniff test, so Smokey and Bandit curled up on the floor over Jesse and Hanzo’s feet. It felt so good to have Hanzo in his home relaxing, especially after a rough evening. He tugged Hanzo over to press a long, firm kiss to his temple.

                “Thanks for comin’ all the way out here.”

                “Of course, darling,” Hanzo mumbled back, clearly halfway to dozing off, but the petname struck like a lance through Jesse’s chest. He pulled Hanzo closer and planted more kisses in his hair.

                “Maybe…maybe you should turn in, sweetheart,” Jesse suggested at a whisper.

                “But I just got here. Not yet.”

                _Fuck_ , Hanzo was adorable half-asleep and petulant.

                “I know you did, but you’re not gonna hold up much longer.”

                Hanzo whined.

                “I’m not, and I have to unpack, too. Shit.”

                “You can unpack in the morning, don’t worry about it,” Jesse replied, but Hanzo’s tired, resigned sigh was enough rebuttal to change his mind. “There’s things you need, huh?” Hanzo nodded against him, so Jesse nudged himself free from dogs and Hanzo to stand once more. He was met with outstretched arms and, despite Hanzo’s substantial muscle mass in his upper body, wasn’t too heavy at all. In addition, Hanzo helped hold his own body weight with his strong arms, even if he was tired.

                Relief soothed Hanzo’s last worry when they made it to the bedroom; Jesse kept a surprisingly large king-size bed despite his single status. Previously-single status, Hanzo thought to himself with a victorious grin fueled by tired, silly giddiness. He got all this perfect man to himself. In this gigantic bed. Damn his physical therapy keeping him from spreading Jesse out on this mattress corner-to-corner and fucking him until he forgot his own name. Later, later.

                The bright giddiness was soon checked by recognition of the time and everything he still had to do before actually turning in. Jesse set him down almost reverently; that bolstered his flagging ego enough to focus on the task at hand. He didn’t have to let this be depressing. This was his _life_ now, and Jesse had respected everything about that so far. He pointed to the smaller bag.

                “Let me have that. The other one is clothes.”

                Jesse side-eyed the smaller but still… _substantial_ bag as he passed it off.

                “What’s this, then?”

                “Everything else,” Hanzo replied with a sigh as he unzipped it. “This is what I was referring to on the way here.”

                “ _Oh._ ” Jesse took a seat on the edge of the bed next to Hanzo and let him unpack as he wished.

                “So,” Hanzo opened hesitantly. “I brought extra. For, um. To keep here. If…if I visit again.”

                Jesse’s eyes lit up and he nodded eagerly.

                “Absolutely! What all needs a drawer?”

                The reassurance gave Hanzo the encouragement he needed – zero percent of any of this was sexy. Catheters came first, a clutch of them individually bagged, then suppositories, his emergency supply of diazepam and a couple spare single-use syringes, and then…all the medications. Two bursting gallon-size Ziploc bags’ worth. Jesse’s bright expression slackened with shock. He plucked up the vial of liquid diazepam and it took a couple tries to read it properly.

                “Wait. This is…I take this.”

                “You do?” Hanzo asked, puzzled.

                “Well, I mean…” Jesse stood and dug in his nightstand to retrieve his measley two prescriptions, one of which was oral diazepam.

                “Oh! Well, yes, you would for your anxiety. I thought you meant the straight stuff.”

                “Wh-what’s the difference?”

                “I use it for its primary purpose: anti-convulsant. Very rarely, I will have localized loss of muscle control. Kind of like a seizure. It will stop the muscle convulsions,” Hanzo explained, careful to be pragmatic and calm about it to take the threat out of the words. It was working, but only just; Jesse still looked a little alarmed. He paused and looked down at the two bottles in his hand, then the veritable pile of medical supplies next to Hanzo.

                “I…it took me a long time to be okay with takin’ these,” he said quietly, gesturing with the bottles to make their contents rattle a bit. “And even now I don’t tell people. Shit, _Ri_ doesn’t know. Now I…feel kinda silly.”

                “Don’t,” Hanzo reassured. “I understand completely. This looks frightening, I know. Some of these are only for emergencies. Almost everything I take day-to-day is intended to be preventative. In all honesty, Jesse, I am overall probably healthier today than I was the day before I got hurt. I have to be, and I went through _a lot_ to finally appreciate the truth of that.”

                The idea that Hanzo had seen and experienced a lot since his injury was something Jesse appreciated, but it was still just an _idea._ In Hanzo’s house there had been tokens of increased accessibility: the power chair, the heavy-duty pull bars in the bathroom and kitchen, for example, but that didn’t illustrate the _harm_ that had fostered the need for those things _._ He’d gotten to see a flicker of it in Genji’s outrage earlier that day, but this was his first, fuller appreciation of Hanzo’s life as he had _re-learned_ to live _._

                _I hit a concrete post at 60 miles an hour and skid 200 feet._

                A life had ended and a new one started in the blink of an eye. Jesse’s had, too, and he hadn’t even witnessed the accident that had shattered his life. But the damage left behind from his parents’ deaths took months and years to blossom and implode. Everything had changed, true, but he’d still gone to school. Still woke up and ate and conducted himself largely the same way every other eleven-year-old did in the immediate aftermath, if with a profound numbness alternating with fear. For Hanzo, it was something altogether more sudden, complete, and existential. Perhaps if Jesse’s parents, or even one of them, had _survived_ but been in a condition like Hanzo’s, Jesse might have understood more deeply and immediately, but… _well_.

                “You’re a fuckin’ miracle,” Jesse murmured.

                Hanzo’s eyes went wide, but soon softened to appreciative and loving.

                “I’m just me, Jesse. You said you got here with hard work,” he said, gesturing to the house around them. “Same for me. You could do it in my place. Better, probably. _Much_ fewer tantrums.”

                “Maybe.”

                “No,” Hanzo insisted with a confident and almost reverent breath of laughter. “I _know_ you could.”

                _Jesus_ Christ. Absolute faith in Jesse’s strength and ability was something he didn’t encounter very often; hearing it from _Hanzo_ added to the already-potent effect. Was _that_ what Hanzo saw: so much will to overcome a greater adversity? That not only was Hanzo not _special_ , but Jesse was his equal in coping? Nothing about their difficulties made for a race, of course, but Jesse respected the _hell_ out of what Hanzo had made for himself.

                Jesse used one hand to slide aside the pile on the bed to make room and used the other to hold the back of Hanzo’s head. He tilted his head aside to meet Hanzo in a soft kiss, though he couldn’t help catching that pouty lower lip in his teeth and press a bit to express his overwhelming want and gratitude and _care_. A sigh eased out of Hanzo in response and Jesse let out a very small, pleading noise of his own. Sadly, Hanzo retreated, but gave his apologies in a delicate drag of his lips along the edge of Jesse’s beard all the way back to his ear.

                “Tomorrow,” he said, though he clearly mourned the necessity.

                “Yes,” Jesse breathed. They nudged their noses together and sat forehead-to-forehead a while longer to enjoy their moment in its entirety. Eventually, Hanzo put a hand over one of Jesse’s splayed on the bed.

                “There’s a lot I will have to go over with you at some point, but for now, I could use your help getting ready for bed.”

                “You got it, baby.”

                Hanzo woke the next morning to an empty bed. Even before he was fully aware, his heart sank knowing something wasn’t there that should be, just as every other morning since the first he’d shared with Jesse after their second date two weeks ago. The angst was soothed a bit knowing he was in Jesse’s home and he was close by, but his waking grumpiness insisted on its presence in a disgruntled frown. He hauled himself up and gathered the pillows – left in a deliberate and conscientious pile on Jesse’s side, Hanzo realized – so he could sit up without straining his back. With nothing else to do and absolutely no inclination to put in the effort to divine an idea anyway, Hanzo flipped on the TV and let the hundredth running hour of The Today Show drone in the room. Despite the effort to seem at least somewhat up and about, Hanzo soon drifted off again and came to when a gentle thumb traced along his cheekbone.

                “Jesse,” Hanzo said, voice still rough with sleep.

                “It’s eleven, you lazy shit,” Jesse teased before bowing to drop a kiss at his hairline.

                “How _dare_ I accept your invitation to sleep in. What have you been up to?”

                “Got feedin’ done and enough of the pasture rotation started to come check in on you.”

                “Hm. Best be thorough,” Hanzo rumbled and rolled a bit to seem more artfully draped across his fluffy pile. “I don’t feel very checked up on.”

                “Goddamn it,” Jesse muttered to himself, but nonetheless sat at the edge bed and reach to hold Hanzo at his waist.

                “What’s a pasture rotation?”

                “Movin’ the herd to fresh grass.”

                “You said it only started? How long does it take?”

                “…Several hours,” Jesse replied.

                “ _Oh._ ”

                “You ain’t even a _little_ clever, Han.”

                “If I’m so transparent as to be anticipated, then why _check in_ at all?”

                Jesse tipped his head up and sighed in defeat at the ceiling. Caught red-handed.

                “Jesus H. Christ,” he swore at himself as he removed his hat and left it on his bedside table. Hanzo veritably _cackled_ with delight and yanked him into bed.

                “Don’t pretend you haven’t been thinking about this every hour since you left my house,” Hanzo shot, already unbuttoning Jesse’s shirt.

                “I’d _never_ lie to you like that,” Jesse replied and pushed Hanzo’s hands aside so he could lay flush against him and dive into a hot kiss. “I been achin’ for you, sugar.”

                “Considering how our night ended, you must be. I need to fix that.” Hanzo slid his hand down Jesse’s middle, bypassing the buttons for now to simply grip him through jeans and all – it was already fairly obvious where to hold. With all the layers, Hanzo decided to be a bit heavy-handed and it made Jesse start on top of him and hiss. “I love your enthusiasm.”

                “And you ain’t?” Jesse asked, hot against his ear but hardly judgmental. “I wore my best goddamn flannel today and everything. Did my hair up all nice.”

                “Gorgeous, but it doesn’t work that way for me anymore. Hands-on only.”

                “Well shit, no argument from me.” Jesse demanded another kiss before sitting back up to straddle Hanzo’s lap, pulling him along so Jesse could strip Hanzo of his t-shirt.

                “You had a singular interest, as I recall,” Hanzo said once he was free to finish releasing Jesse from his shirt. God, that _hair._ He raked his fingers through all of it on Jesse’s chest. “Which means I need something from my bag.”

                “Okay, one second.”

                Jesse paused just long enough for another kiss to hold him over while he dismounted, circled the bed, and fetched the smaller bag that held all the medical supplies he’d shown off last night.

                “What am I lookin’ for?”

                “A, uh…ring.”

                Jesse’s head shot up and stared emptily into the wall. Equally unexpected as it was devastatingly hot.

                “A _cock_ ring? Shit, babe, I-I didn’t plan for any toys.”

                “It’s… _medicinal_. And in the side pocket.”

                As promised, a simple, bumpy silicone ring was inside along with a small token bottle of lube just in case. _That,_ Jesse had planned on. He returned to Hanzo and set their prize aside so he could take Hanzo’s head in his hands and show his appreciation with a tongue-laden kiss.

                “I don’t care if it’s a fucking prescription if it means I can ride that thick cock _literally_ until my cows come home, Hanzo.”

                Hanzo burst out laughing even as Jesse tried to kiss him again. It was infectious; Jesse lost it in a fit of giggling and they collapsed on their sides together as they let their mirth ride out. The laughing faded to titters to silence, watching each other all the while. A smile, far more wicked this time, returned to Hanzo’s face as he pulled open Jesse’s belt, eyes locked on his partner’s rather than his hands.

                The button and zipper came free and forced them to break eye contact so Jesse could kick off his jeans. Hanzo threaded his arms around Jesse’s shoulders to pull them flush while on their sides, and Jesse caught the back of Hanzo’s knee and gently tugged it into place up and over his hip. The rutting was gentle and lazy; Jesse did most of the work, but kept his grip hitched up under Hanzo’s ass to add leverage. Jesse being preoccupied gave Hanzo plenty of opportunity for his mouth to wander elsewhere. He nibbled greedily at Jesse’s pulse, chasing his firmer marks with a flat, eager tongue to soothe and every time, Jesse bucked harder against him.

                “Fuck me,” he sputtered, his grip around Hanzo’s ass was beginning to shiver, it was so tight and forceful.

                “Up.” Jesse retreated to sit up, taking Hanzo’s sleeping shorts away with him to leave Hanzo naked. Then came Jesse’s briefs, and he let out a quiet, relieved sigh as his half-hard dick came free. Hanzo’s gaze, incisive and eager, cast up and down, lingering on his hips. He hadn’t gotten to see everything the first time. For all Jesse praise Hanzo’s dick, Jesse did _just_ fine himself. “Show me where you want to be.”

                Jesse took Hanzo by the hips and nudged him into being on his back. A thought struck as he considered pulling Hanzo down to be flat on the mattress.

                “D’you need to stay like that? Or can I lay you out?”

                Hanzo returned a borderline dreamy smile, head tilted to the side and eyes adoring. Was there _anything_ about Jesse that wasn’t gracious and thoughtful?

                “You want to put on a show, do you? No, I shouldn’t lay completely flat,” he replied, but grew a little sheepish. His lower back rotation was so limited. “I can’t turn enough to fix it, can you—”

                “Of course I can,” Jesse said in a nervous rush and straddled Hanzo once more, uncaring he was buck-ass naked and half-hard as he helped rearrange the cushioning. Might as well snatch his freshly-purchased lube out of his sidetable while he was up, too.

                “I _finally_ have an excuse to invest in a wedge,” Hanzo mused as he traced a lazy finger aimlessly around Jesse’s stomach shifting around in front of him.

                “A what?”

                “I’ll show you later. I have far too much on my hands right now. That’s fine,” Hanzo added as he reclined back into the pillows. Jesse’s hips made for a wonderful place to plant his hands as he drew back to take his rightful place in Hanzo’s lap. The whole of Jesse’s stem-to-stern trail of hair was on display now and Hanzo resumed teasing it with his fingers.

                “You’re a fan,” Jesse rumbled. The thin lines of Hanzo’s fingernails hitting his skin made his thighs clench a little.

                “God, I am.” Jesse set the lube on Hanzo’s chest as a quiet offering. Hanzo took it and put a healthy dab in his hand. “If you’re going to be spending so much time out of reach, get down here."

                Jesse slunk down to meet Hanzo face-to-face and offered himself up for a lingering, heavy kiss. His impatient tongue pointed and zipped across Hanzo’s teeth and he made his need known in a single, almost-inaudible pitched noise in his breath when he retreated. To start, Hanzo used his slick hand just to play with the head of Jesse’s dick – something to ramp him up a bit again before the real work. A deep buck was enough encouragement for Hanzo to slide his hand back further and up from underneath Jesse’s legs to begin teasing his hole.

                “Have you been practicing?” Hanzo asked, sweet and raspy. Jesse nodded against his neck and gave a rough _mmhm_ in affirmation. He nipped and tugged at one of Hanzo’s snake bite ball bearings.

                “Ain’t got anything big as you, though.”

                Hanzo couldn’t capture Jesse’s mouth again fast enough. He put more pressure behind his touch circling Jesse but slowed the pace.

                “We’ll have to get you something to fix that. I bet horseback becomes _much_ more interesting if you spend the morning preparing for me.” Jesse had to relax his arms holding him up and fall into Hanzo for a moment for the shudder that racked him in response. The submission was so complete, Hanzo pressed his advantage to let himself in before continuing his massage. “You approve of the idea, then.”

                “Jesus fuck, Hanzo, I’d be a wreck before I made it to pasture.”

                “Practice, _practice_.”

                Eventually, Jesse began rolling back into Hanzo’s single finger to expedite the effect. Hanzo stilled him with a hush, took a moment to lube up again, and carded his hair as he began again with second finger.

                “M’ready,” Jesse huffed.

                “ _No_ , you’re not,” Hanzo countered with deep, slow laughter. “But the enthusiasm looks amazing on you. What did you do when you came home all alone wanting me?”

                “I fucked myself in the shower. I was in there forty-five minutes.”

                “ _Jesse._ ”

                “I should’ve stayed that morning. I ain’t come that hard in years.”

                Hanzo pressed a third finger as Jesse rolled his hips back; he gave a soft hiss, but kept on, pushing back harder.

                “Get the ring,” Hanzo barked. Jesse arched in his reach and slapped his hand on it resting on the corner of the nightstand. “Touch me. I’ll tell you when to put it on.”

                As asked, Jesse shifted his weight to his left arm and, with Hanzo’s clumsy help, nabbed a touch of lube to start pulling Hanzo off. He gave Hanzo’s cock a gentle, full-hand squeeze as he considered how soon _all of this_ would be his; he traced his lower lip with his tongue and followed it with a rake of his teeth. He glanced up and saw Hanzo watching him with wide, insatiate eyes. Both of them had stopped their cooperative effort fingering him, transfixed by their moment appreciating the depth of their mutual want. Jesse broke the spell first, crushing their lips together in a kiss that was mostly teeth; Hanzo pulled his hand back and used the excess lube still on his fingers to coat the ring before sliding it on and jacking himself in earnest to finish getting hard. One last kiss felt necessary before sitting up again, but Jesse hovered right against Hanzo’s mouth and didn’t quite close the deal.

                “I need you, sugar.”

                “It’s yours, Jesse. I’m yours.”

                Jesse’s fingernails bit into Hanzo’s scalp where he cradled the back of his head. Suddenly, he wasn’t ready to let go. Hanzo drew a line with his thumb underneath Jesse’s lip agape with emotion.

                “ _Hanzo._ ”

                “I know. Show me.”

                That was plenty of impetus to get Jesse upright again. He spread his knees wide before rising up, one hand splayed on Hanzo’s chest underneath him. If Hanzo wanted a show, he’d get one. Underneath he could feel Hanzo’s hand lining up; all the better so he could focus on his performance. Holding himself up was no issue given his leg strength; it let him take his time sinking down without having to brace himself. Hanzo’s breath stopped in his chest watching Jesse’s effortless display, gaze starting from his hooded eyes, down his neck, the helpful line of hair pointing into his hips, and ending at his lightly-trembling thighs as he took Hanzo inch by inch.

                Which, speaking of, caught his attention with an odd patch of color at the deepest part of the interior of his thigh, right up near the hip joint. It was lighter than the rest of his skin; on focused inspection, difficult as it was when Jesse was taking the head and letting out a long, guttural moan, Hanzo’s stomach gave a very confused drop of fear upon realizing they scars. Thin, semi-parallel lines set over each other. Old, muted, yet unmistakably self-harm scars.

                A quick glance to the right revealed a matching set on the other leg, and for a seemingly interminable eternity, Hanzo was at an impasse. When Jesse finished his drop and gave a full-body squeeze, however, Hanzo’s eyes rolled back and sorted his priorities. He had a beautiful man to look after right now. Just in case, Hanzo didn’t dare touch them, and instead opted to draw firm fingernails down Jesse’s torso and towards his dick damp with pre-come and leftover lube.

                “Fuck yourself hoarse, gorgeous.”

                Jesse didn’t need telling twice as he took his first cycle up and down. It’d been ages since he’d gotten to do this and he was going to wring every last second out of it. He put his whole concentration into it, carefully controlling his movement so Hanzo could move when Jesse’s full body weight wasn’t pinning him. After this he had to get back on a horse for hours on end and he’d be lucky if he was gonna be able to walk tomorrow after that, but he couldn’t give less of a good goddamn right now. He tipped his head back and let his jaw hang, ragged _aahs_ slipping from him as he came back down and was filled base to head. Hanzo lost himself in the smooth undulation of Jesse’s cock bobbing forward and back into his body with each roll of his hips.

                “I have to have you come down my throat _very_ soon,” Hanzo panted. “You’re too good at this to not feel you fuck my face.”

                Jesse spat out an unintelligible curse that sounded like a jumbled mess of English and Spanish syllabary. He dropped his gaze down and drew a finger in a shaky line on Hanzo’s chest to catch his eyes.

                “I’ll sit there next time.”

                Hanzo put all his core strength into bucking back in one thrust, his hands scrabbling to hold the tops of Jesse’s thighs in a tight grip. He couldn’t lift Jesse, but that didn’t matter when he could feel it in exactly the right way inside. A pitched wail bounced off the vaulted ceiling and Jesse bent forward, shivering. He returned an appreciative full-body squeeze, his thighs straining with effort under Hanzo’s touch. Hanzo’s legs shifted restlessly underneath, and Jesse’s crooked cut of a victorious grin, tongue just poked out from between his teeth, was almost too much for Hanzo to bear.

                “Jesse, I—”

                “Come inside me,” Jesse cut in, chin up at the ceiling and voice straining from effort. His right hand knotted itself in his hair and the fingers on his left curled on Hanzo’s stomach as his passes grew shorter and more frantic. “I need you, Hanzo.”

                The way Jesse’s voice bent on the long _a_ in his name turned everything in Hanzo’s chest to sodden pulp. He reached for Jesse’s damp, bobbing cock and began pulling him off, earning another heady cry. When Jesse twitched around him and buckled, Hanzo called Jesse's name to get his attention and used his free hand to clumsily twist one of his own nipple piercings. Hanzo was a picture, eyes rolled back and jaw slack as his fingers trembled around the bar in his skin. His hand around Jesse's cock tightened involuntarily just under the head, pulling it down a bit and that was it for Jesse; he came, spattering Hanzo's chest and even a little bit up his neck. Beneath him, Hanzo was shivering and taut in climax, though nothing filled him inside. Hardly anything to complain about, when Jesse nonetheless got to see Hanzo's face relax in satiation, eyes hooded and chest heaving. He needed to get up and off quick before his afterglow fully kicked in and he wasn't going to be inclined to move anymore.

                “I ain't ever seen somethin' so pretty,” Jesse huffed as he pulled off and flopped down next to Hanzo. He went to pet across Hanzo's chest and drew back with belated realization. “I'll get that, sorry babe.”

                “Not at all. It's badge of honor,” Hanzo replied with a wink that made Jesse's already-weak knees shiver under him as he made for his bathroom. He came back with a hand towel and cleaned up after himself, Hanzo watching him all the while. When Jesse finished, he kissed a line up Hanzo’s damp skin from collarbone to ear before catching Hanzo’s smiling lips in his.

                “Feelin’ better after a good night’s sleep?”

                “And then some,” Hanzo replied coyly. He tugged Jesse to lay on top of him so he could smooth his hands down the whole of Jesse’s toned, freckled back. “Can we stay here _all_ day?”

                “Jesus, I wish. But we got a little while, at least. You still want a tour?”

                “Of course I do.”

                “I can’t take you on horseback, can I?”

                “ _No,_ ” Hanzo replied in one long syllable with a teasing smile, but it faded as he saw Jesse seemed rather put out. He pet at Jesse’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. Did Jesse think he was simply being overtly cosmopolitan? “You…really want to.”

                Jesse shrugged in feigned disaffection.

                “A little bit.”

                “My vertebrae are pinned and fused and can’t handle that kind of jostling, _if_ we could even get me _on_ the horse. At least your motorcycle is low to the ground and the ride is smooth.”

                “Yeah, I get it. I figured it was kind of a pipe dream.”

                “I’m sorry, Jesse.”

                Jesse rallied and shook his head before raising himself up to steal a kiss. He booped Hanzo’s nose with a knuckle and offered a wink with all his usual humor.

                “Don’t apologize. I’m just bein’ an overwrought gay cowboy.”

                Hanzo combed back Jesse’s hair fallen in his face with his fingers.

                “No sex in any haystacks, either. I’ll be picking it out of my hair for _weeks_.” Jesse spit up laughing and buried his face in the pillow next to Hanzo’s head, where Hanzo giggled along with him and kissed the edge of his sideburns. “Go draw me a bath, you gigantic sap.”

                With Hanzo at last ready to make his grand introduction, they left the house a while later and loaded up in the truck. The desert stretched out around them, framed by the red-brown silhouette of the mountains in every direction. Jesse drove straight out into the rocky landscape from his driveway, headed for a cluster of metal fencing and buildings not far out.

                “That there’s the barn and stables. We start here with feedin’ at the corral before runnin’ em out to wherever they’re gonna be for the day. The smaller building is a slaughterhouse – when I took over, I brought on a guy to do small-scale butchery for local restaurants.”

                “Farm-to-table evangelist,” Hanzo said, quoting Jesse’s Instagram.

                “Damn right I am,” Jesse answered with a wide smile. “My old boss was, as you’d guess, old-fashioned; I had started talking him into it before he announced retirement. He told me that my lobbying was what convinced him to offer the whole thing up to me for sale first. I’m lookin’ to buy a bunch more land on the other side of the highway next year and expand the herd. Grow the business.”

                “Ambitious.”

                Hanzo didn’t sound impressed as much as he was…besotted, Jesse realized, and his heart went wild in his chest to the point he was sure it would be audible. He glanced over and saw Hanzo was staring, probably not _really_ listening, but enjoying his time riding around nonetheless.

                “L-let me take you out to where they’re grazin’ today.”

                “Okay,” Hanzo replied, still obviously distracted in his undisguised appreciation of Jesse as he sat there. The drive took nearly fifteen minutes across the dusty, simple trail, which surprised Hanzo enough to rouse him from his thirst-ridden mood to ask more questions about everything Jesse did in his work. They made it up to the grazing field and Hanzo got to meet Jesse’s foreman, Diego, and a few ranch hands, who welcomed him warmly though two of them spoke only Spanish. Beautiful as it was, they only lingered for a half-hour as Hanzo couldn’t stay out in the heat away from the truck too terribly long. The foreman insisted he could take care of the rest of the day for Jesse and offered Hanzo a cheeky wink as he waved off his boss to go home and take time for himself.

                “He’s much older than you,” Hanzo said, nodding to Diego as they headed back for the house.

                “Yeah. He’s been foreman twenty years. I kept everybody on after I took over. No reason not to. I trust ‘em like family.”

                “The ranch wasn’t offered to him?”

                “He’s never been interested in that level of work, and he told me himself he’s too old for it when I got the offer. I was worried I was steppin’ on toes and he made me feel a lot better about it. He’ll probably retire in a couple years. Originally, he was training me to take _his_ job.”

                “I…wasn’t sure what to expect meeting the people who work for you. I mean…”

            “No, they’ve known for years I ain’t straight. We worked out in the middle of the desert together for hours on end, Han. Can’t hide a whole lot about yourself even if you want to. Lord knows I tried, early on. They’ve been askin’ about you, matter of fact.”

                “O-oh.”

                “Diego pulled me aside the other day and told me he was actually relieved I found somebody. ‘ _You’ve been on your own too long_ ,’ he said. Hate to admit it, but he was right.”

                “You’re welcome,” Hanzo replied suavely, and Jesse swatted at him from across the cab.

                They spent the rest of the day in repose, Hanzo strumming out the basic riff for a new song he was working on and Jesse at his laptop catching up on some administrative work for the business. Neither felt much need to make _an event_ of the afternoon when they simply had each other as company. That by itself was a novelty, since Jesse had to come and go into town on a schedule. As evening approached, Jesse set aside his work and headed for the kitchen.

                “Let me guess: steak?” Hanzo offered, to which Jesse laughed.

                “ _No_ , asshole. Neighbor up the way raises sheep, so I got ahold of a lamb shank. Somethin’ _fancy_ for your pretentious, monied ass,” Jesse teased. He pointed to the bottle of wine he brought home from La Tumba. “Even got Jack to cough up a nice vintage for me, I didn’t tell you last night.”

                “I did read the label. Was that your or Jack’s choice?”

                “You think a country punk like me can’t have a palate?” Jesse asked, eyebrow quirked.

                “I…fair. Sorry.”

                Jesse waved it off with a smile as he poured a pair of glasses.

                “It is my choice, but they got me drinkin’ wine from the first. Aw, sugar, you don’t—”

                Hanzo had gotten up from the sofa to retrieve his glass. He sidled up to Jesse and circled his waist with an arm.

                “I want to help. Granted, I don’t know terribly much about cooking, but perhaps you can teach me a thing or two. My pretentious, monied ass could use a home skill.”

                “Done,” Jesse replied, and sealed it with a kiss.

                Dinner was made and eaten at a leisurely pace, punctuated by so many tangents of lazy, amorous appreciation they almost let some fried potatoes burn on the stove. Once cleaned up (and still slightly damp from a short engagement flicking water at each other), they wandered back out to the living room. Hanzo took lead and drew Jesse to the piano.

                “Hanzo?”

                “I want to hear you play.”

                “Shit, babe, I-I…”

                “ _Please?_ ”

                No refusing that face for Jesse. He opened the bench seat and retrieved the sheet music he’d last played: a book of easy Ellington arrangements, as he’d explained to Hanzo when they’d first met.

                “Uh…which one?”

                “Whichever appeals to you.”

                Jesse sheepishly flipped to “In A Sentimental Mood”, but found himself a little too bashful to actually sit and play. Hanzo saw what he picked and took a seat at the high end of the piano. From memory, he played the opening, repeating riff of high chords a few times and looked over to Jesse in invitation, who at last sat and put the sheet music up. He began to play in halting tempo, clearly nervous, but every once and again, Hanzo would chime in with the same riff, perfectly in beat with Jesse’s unsteady progress. On the repeat, Hanzo murmured the lyrics along with Jesse’s playing all the way to the end. When he stopped, his hands remained in place on the keys and he appeared lost in thought. What if he spoke what his heart was screaming right now? On this, their third-ever…Jesse couldn’t even think of it as a _date_ in his own head. Jack’s voice in his head – _it’s a tad fast –_ reeled him in, but only just. If this was… _it_ the way it felt so completely at this very second, his time would come.

                “Jesse?” came Hanzo’s voice, soft and concerned. Jesse turned to look. “Is…this a bad idea? Too much memory?”

                Gratitude and affection beamed from Jesse in his bright, warm eyes.

                “No, Han, not at all,” he replied and bent down for a kiss.

~

                In the month following the first visit to the ranch, Jesse and Hanzo made as much time for each other as possible, visiting on Hanzo’s show nights at the bar and carving out at least a little bit of time on weekends for Jesse to come into town. Genji seemed to be away more than he was home, going back and forth between New York and Tucson for meetings with the prospective label. Some nights, Jesse had been the one helping Hanzo set up equipment for Hanzo’s sets instead. Though Jesse was deeply curious, he tried to curb discussion of it as much as he could, because bringing it up inevitably made Hanzo anxious. All he really understood was that Genji was negotiating on the terms of the contract.

                Jesse had tonight dogeared for Hanzo because the weekend had been planned for a lot of work mending fences. Everyone at the ranch had shooed him off in the midafternoon with coy smiles and gentle admonishment for worrying about work, so he came to town early, got himself a haircut and had the barber do his hair up a little nicer than usual in anticipation of picking up his date. It also gave him extra time to _think_ about his plans tonight, his own emotional ulterior motive. Besides their first date going out for dinner, he and Hanzo had spent most of their time together at his home or at La Tumba, which might as well _be_ home. Tonight, he wanted to edge a little bit outside of his comfort zone. Nerve-wracking, to be sure, but he felt confident in trying because he knew now how… _stable_ and _potent_ his relationship with Hanzo was already.

                He arrived at Hanzo’s early and knocked eagerly on the door. Dimly, he heard Hanzo’s voice inside and understood the cue; the door was unlocked for him already so Hanzo didn’t necessarily have to meet him. Inside, Hanzo was on the sofa, dressed and ready but for his braces set aside on the floor.

                “Hey there, sweet pea.”

                Hanzo replied simply with a smile. Jesse kissed him hello as he sat next to him and gave him a hug.

                “I got somethin’ special in mind tonight.”

                “Oh? Did I overdress?” Hanzo teased, nudging Jesse.

                “You never overdress, it’s only a question of how much effort I gotta put in after the fact. No, I thought we’d go out to place I know not far from ours. It’s called Ermanos. You never get to just enjoy a bar with a music venue for yourself. They got a small dance floor and everything.”

                Hanzo grew stiff in Jesse’s arms, and thank goodness Hanzo wasn’t looking Jesse in the face, because his face fell in unexpected disappointment.

                “A…dance floor?” Hanzo asked.

                “Yeah. I mean…only if you want to. But I know the owner through Gabe. It’s a nice place. Quiet. She keeps it lower-key than La Tumba. The guy playin’ there tonight also occasionally plays where you do. All acoustic. Just somewhere you and I can spend some time.”

                “You _want_ to dance, though, I can tell.”

                Jesse sighed in defeat and ran his hand through his hair.

                “I...yeah, I do, Hanzo. I ain’t askin’ you to do the Charleston. Just…you, me, and something slow playin’. Call me old-fashioned. But if that’s uncomfortable for you—”

                “No. No, let’s go.”

                Jesse nuzzled Hanzo’s temple and pet his neck with a thumb.

                “Sure, babe?”

                “Yes. I don’t get out very often if I’m not performing. That should change. It’s a little silly to be so hesitant, considering what I do three days a week.”

                “Performance ain’t the same as livin’ your life. I get it. Just keep your eyes on me ‘til you feel more confident, hm?”

                “I always have eyes on you.”

                The bright smile painted on Jesse’s face already felt worth it to Hanzo. If Jesse wanted something special, he was going to get it, especially something so tiny and simple. All he had to do was bury his face in Jesse’s shoulder and sway, never mind the rest of the world, and Hanzo could find plenty of appeal in that.

                Within a half-hour, they were seated in a cozy corner at Ermanos, personally served by the very gracious owner. The band wasn’t due to start for an hour, so Jesse and Hanzo had time to eat and make themselves comfortable. It being Friday night, the place filled quickly, but neither paid the crowd any mind when they had each other to talk to.

                “They’re fittin’ to start soon. I’d better tap a kidney,” Jesse said.

                “I’ll get us topped off,” Hanzo replied.

                So he went to the bar, now heavily crowded, to order another pair of beers. The bartender recognized him and gave a wink as acknowledgement. She poured two glasses on the spot for him and left them at the bartop to take before returning to her more complicated orders. Now, a minor challenge: navigating the crowd back. It was a bit of a task in close quarters like this in the best circumstances – now, without free hands and needing to concentrate on balance, it was a greater level of complication. Nothing he hadn’t done before, but...he’d failed at it once or twice, too.

                “C’mon, gimp, hoof it.” 

                And _that_ wasn’t going to help in the least.

                A tall, lean twentysomething had barked at him. Clearly collegiate material with a substantial amount of _pregaming_ already in his system. This was probably only the first of _many_ stops he intended tonight, that much was obvious. Hanzo had yet to actually pick up the glasses; the thought occurred to reel around and slug him. Wouldn’t be the first time for _that_ either. Genji had needed to physically pin him once in a particularly colorful public altercation. But this night was for Jesse. All his optimism about going somewhere public with Hanzo deserved to be rewarded, even if it wasn’t realistic.

                He took his prizes and made his return – he was even quick enough with his considerable upper body strength and mobility to dodge the sophomoric nudge the kid tried to use to trip him up, all without spilling a drop. Victory surged in Hanzo’s veins and cut a vicious grin across his face.

                Jesse was coming back at the same time and saw Hanzo with their drinks. As he came up and made to take his beer, he caught some scrawny dudebro mimicking a limp for his equally shit-faced friends. Jocky laughter followed, and a glance down at Hanzo’s wrathful crease of a frown told Jesse everything he needed to know. Once upon a time, that had been Jesse – stupid, drunk, devil-may-care. All his years making himself into something worthwhile had not fostered sympathy, but bone-deep acrimony. Moments like this made Jesse see red, and when that happened, very old and bad habits came to bear.

                Jesse stepped past Hanzo, dimly registering some kind of objection from him in the back of his head, and stormed up to the clutch of college boys. Fear descended on them instantly in the face of six-foot-one strapped-as-hell cowboy bearing down on them.

                “We have a problem?”

                Gutteral and stupid half-formed utterances answered him from most of the boys, but the one that had mocked Hanzo in particular tried to double down as a tough guy, though his face had obviously grown pale.

                “You gonna go to bat for a cripple, dude? I don’t give a fuck,” he slurred.

                “That,” Jesse said, low and dangerous, “Is my goddamn _boyfriend_ , you little shit. You bet your ever-lovin’ tender _nutsack_ I’ll go to bat for him.” Repulsion involuntarily flickered across the kids’s face – Jesse’s contemptuous grin only widened, and his voice grew louder. “Yep. _Boyfriend._ He’s gonna take me home tonight, I’ll suck his dick dry, and I’ll love every fuckin’ second of it. So I’ll ask you again: _do we have a problem?_ ”

                Terror shadowed the kid’s face as Jesse leant into his personal bubble, shattered it, and loomed an inch from his nose.

                “Go on. Say it. I know you want to. Make my fucking day and call me fag. _See what happens._ ”

                “Jesse,” Hanzo cut in, harsh and direct. People were staring – what’s more, the bartender had taken notice and disappeared in the back. Jesse retreated, but never once broke eye contact with the offending party until they were several yards apart. Hanzo all but had to herd Jesse back into their booth with a less-than-charitable shove.

                “Mother _fucker_ ,” Jesse spat.

                “Jesse, _stop_ ,” Hanzo repeated, his voice torn between angry and genuinely upset. That brought Jesse back down to earth and correctly reasserted his priorities. Repentance made his features sag.

                “Sorry, Han.”

                “It’s fine.”

                “No, it ain’t. I promised you it’d be okay. Reassured you.”

                Hanzo abruptly pulled Jesse in for a kiss, so much so it took him a second to reciprocate. When they parted, Hanzo stayed close and spoke again against Jesse’s chin.

                “ _Please_ , not here. Later.” His voice was exasperated, distraught, and just shy of angry all at once.

                Jesse circled his arms tighter around Hanzo’s waist and he grit his teeth. Making a scene had been a mistake on several levels.

                “You got it. Should we leave?”

                Though Hanzo clearly seemed to consider it, his body released its tension in a long sigh and he shook his head.

                “No. You haven’t had your dance yet… _our_ dance,” he finished softly.

                “That’s true. Whatever you want, sugar.”

                All Hanzo’s irritation and stress fell away when Jesse let him hide in a flannelled shoulder and take a moment to calm down and let his quietly-simmering humiliation still inside him. They were interrupted by the owner hurrying over. She apologized profusely and the four guys could be seen being herded out by the owner’s husband. Jesse got up and spoke briefly with her about his very real disappointment, that he had chosen to bring Hanzo there for a reason, but ultimately also apologized himself for making a scene. It wasn’t terribly seemly, no matter how emotionally-justified. They parted on good terms, but the small boost improving his mood by speaking with her faltered when he turned back to Hanzo looking deflated at their table. He slid into the booth to be next to Hanzo once more and put a hand over the top of his.

                “I lost my head.”

                “Yes. I do sympathize, though. It occurred to me, too.”

                “God forbid I ever see you lose it. There wouldn’t be anything left.”

                Hanzo’s lip curled in a toothy, sinister smile.

                “No, there wouldn’t be.”

                The music soon began, but Jesse still appeared chastened by his public outburst, so Hanzo wound an arm behind his back and kissed his neck. This wasn’t going to ruin his evening, goddamn it.

                “Let’s go. I promised you.”

                A few others had already wandered out in pairs, so that took the edge off Jesse’s increasing anxiety as they made their approach. Hanzo opted to slide his arms up Jesse’s shoulders and tease a hand up the back of his fresh haircut, so Jesse took Hanzo by the hips, hands just above the edge of his braces. As both of them secretly hoped, the rest of the world around them slipped away as a distant, comforting drone while they were wrapped up in each other and turned in a slow, patient circle in place.

                “So,” Hanzo opened lowly.

                “What?” Jesse asked humorously, expecting some lascivious bit from Hanzo.

                “I’m your _boyfriend_ , am I?’

                Holy Mary, mother of god, Jesse had fucked up worse than he thought.

                Instantly, Jesse threatened to lock up on the dance floor, but Hanzo had planned for it and had been petting at the back of his head for a reason. He shifted his hips between Jesse’s hands in suggestion to keep him moving and it mostly worked.

                “Hanzo, I—”

                “I think it fits,” Hanzo continued casually. “You certainly feel like one to me.”

                “…I do?”

                “Of course.” He closed the distance between them so they danced in a complete embrace and he spoke again at a whisper, reverent and reflective. “I said I’m yours, didn’t I?”

                They shared a kiss slow as the pace of their feet and didn’t speak again until they had their fill of dancing, forehead to forehead.

                Despite the hiccup, they left the bar in good spirits, huddled close and all smiles. On the drive home, however, Jesse reclaimed some of his senses after living in the afterglow of being called _boyfriend_ to need a question answered.

                “What should I do if it happens again?” he asked apropos of nothing.

                Hanzo blinked in surprise at the sudden shift.

                “In truth, nothing, Jesse. Unless someone is actively looking to harm me. That stupid bastard wasn’t. I’m not a trophy at risk of dishonor.”

                That stung, but he was right.

                “Yeah,” Jesse agreed in a pained sigh.

                “I’m not angry,” Hanzo reassured, though he nodded a bit to himself in reflection before continuing with a confession. “Anymore.”

                “Uh…good. It won’t happen again.”

                “I know.”

                And that was enough of that.

                They arrived back at Hanzo’s home in slightly muted spirits and made a beeline for the sofa in the living room. Bed, either for sleep or more recreational activity, didn’t seem quite right yet. Hanzo relieved himself of his braces and shuffled into Jesse’s lap. Contact felt like a quality panacea for the uneasiness caused by the trip home. Jesse in particular thought over his lost temper, now it seemed safer to do with Hanzo wrapped comfortably around him with no threat of a greater argument. Belatedly, he realized just what he had done tonight in front of a _substantial_ amount of people: outed himself. That was unheard of for him. Jesus Christ, _he’d talked about sucking Hanzo’s dick and everything._ Even for having been in defense of his…his new… _holy shit._

                “Jesse?” Hanzo had seen him turn a little gray.

                “I told that guy I was gay.”

                Hanzo balked.

                ”Yes…you did?”

                Tonight had been real. This was real right now. He had been _seen._

                “I…I gotta…”

                “Jesse, what’s wrong?”

                The idea of taking a walk struggled to take flight from Jesse’s subconscious and be spoken, but it was too late, he was stuck in his loop. He tried to remind himself of the kiss at La Tumba weeks before. That just made it worse. What the fuck had he been _thinking_ , doing that in front of so many people? Surely, they would see him for what he was, in all his uselessness and damage. Trying too hard and making an ass of himself. This was supposed to have been a toe in the metaphorical water for him, and like clockwork, he’d thrown himself whole-ass into the deep end again, all flailing limbs and carrying on. Of _course_ Hanzo had been angry with him for being so fucking stupid.

                “ _Talk to me,”_ Hanzo tried again.

                Jesse managed to somewhat rouse himself, but as he looked over to see Hanzo’s very worried expression, he felt miles away despite sitting next to him. Remotely, Jesse understood he was disassociating, but couldn’t wrangle the wherewithal to _do_ anything about it. Life just sort of…kept going around him, like a stone in a river. Touched, but unmoved.

                Hanzo wasn’t simply worried – he was growing a little frightened. Jesse’s eyes had unfocused and his breaths came shallow and quiet. Jesse’s entire mood had turned on a dime for seemingly no reason. What could he be so afraid of hours after the event? He reached up to pet Jesse’s bare chest under the lapels of his shirt and didn’t speak again until Jesse blinked and finally seemed able to see what was in front of him.

                “Oh. I...how long…sorry.”

                “It’s okay, I simply don’t understand.”

                “I just…started thinkin’ too hard. Listen, I know…I know you were nervous about tonight and talked about how you don’t…get out a lot. That’s true of me, too. I was tryin’ to…do something I hadn’t really done before.”

                “And that was?”

                “Just that. Be out. Y’know… _out._ ”

                “ _Oh._ ”

                “I ain’t very good at it. You’re not my first partner or anything, but…I ain’t kept serious relationships. And I keep…that part of me to myself.”

                “Jesse, if we are going too fast—”

                “ _No._ No, sugar, that’s not what I’m tryin’ to say. This is fine. Finest thing I ever had, I’m just…”

                Jesse rubbed his hands over the tops of his thighs and began scratching at the denim over his knees compulsively. Anything to keep his hands occupied so he didn’t start picking at his skin or ruin something of Hanzo’s with his tics.

                “I told you my first foster home didn’t work out.”

                Hanzo’s heart plummeted.

                “You did,” he replied as easily as he could muster.

                “Bein’ Japanese, I don’t know how…acquainted you are with the finer points of American religious culture, but the foster system attracts a lot of religious types. I’m sure a lot of ‘em are well-meanin’, too. Hell, even mine was. I _guess_.”

                Hanzo had certainly seen tokens of it here and there, but hadn’t bothered to look into it very much. The more zealous religious Americans felt inscrutable, and he knew enough to know they didn’t intend anything good for him top to bottom.

                “You…weren’t accepted. As you are.”

                “Yeah. I always knew I wasn’t…but I didn’t know what it meant, y’know? And I lost my parents before I figured out how to explain it. In middle school, it came together for me and I kept it mostly to myself. Mostly. My original foster parents had kids of their own like Ana, too. One of ‘em was a year older than me. I’m still not sure how it happened, but it got back to the older son through friends of friends and my foster parents found out.”

                “And?” Hanzo asked with far more reassuring confidence than he felt.

                “I know you’re scared of what I’m gonna say next. They never laid a hand on me. Nothin’ like that at all. But they…felt the need to _adjust_ me. It turned into two years of religious counseling. Lots of talks about bein’ _loved on_ to find my _true self_ and shit. My foster father spending extra time with me for a ‘strong male figure’ in my life,” Jesse explained, his voice growing increasingly bitter. “Didn’t take, save for makin’ me…” He let out a long, pained sigh. “I started acting out. Got in with shitty kids and high school dropouts. That’s how I ended up doin’ everything that landed me in juvenile detention. Four month sentence. I spent my 16 th birthday there.”

                Jesse grew increasingly tense; Hanzo reached up to comb his sideburns with his fingers.

                “When I got out, I was told I was being transferred homes. They dumped me, no warning. I finally understood why nobody came to visit while I was there.”

                “ _Jesse,_ ” Hanzo murmured.

                “And I mean…I didn’t like ‘em at the end. I _wanted_ to hate them. But it still hurt like a motherfucker.” He felt Hanzo take his hand and he squeezed it. “I ain’t told many people this story.”

                “No doubt. I can see why you speak so fondly of your adoptive mother.”

                “She means the world to me,” Jesse said at a thickened husk. “She’s the only reason I’m out at all. The only reason I’m not in jail. Dead. Whatever. So…so that’s why I had this idea tonight. And now I’m ruinin’ it all over again.”

                “You have ruined _nothing_ ,” Hanzo said, and pulled Jesse into a tight embrace. “I wish I’d known this before leaving. I’d have taken it much more seriously.”

                “I don’t want you havin’ to take nothin’ about me and my shit _seriously_.”

                “Isn’t that what I’m here for? What _any_ boyfriend should be here for?”

                Jesse gave a single, heavy sniff against Hanzo’s neck. Using _that_ word landed extra-hard after an explanation like his.

                “I guess you got a point.”

                Hanzo tugged at Jesse as invitation for them to lay out on the sofa together, Jesse on top and facefirst in Hanzo’s chest. They laid like that for a while with Hanzo tilling Jesse’s thick locks to calm him down. It worked and Jesse melted into him, but Hanzo couldn’t stop thinking about their first date – how little he’d understood when Jesse had first broached the subject – and what he’d seen when they’d first slept together at the ranch.

                “There’s something I want to ask you,” Hanzo eventually spoke, low and husky.

                “Uh oh.”

                “Yes, it’s a difficult question, as you suspect. If that’s too much right now, it’s fine.”

                “Go ahead,” Jesse said after a long beat.

                “You have scars on your legs. Are they—”

                “Yeah.”

                “Okay. I saw them…when we were at your home.”

                Hanzo felt more than heard the curse Jesse mumbled into his shoulder.

                “I forget about ‘em. Sorry.”

                “Shouldn’t you? That’s hardly a thing to apologize for.”

                “Yeah. Not exactly sexy, though.”

                “Shut your mouth.” He could feel Jesse smile through his t-shirt. “Everything about you is beautiful,” he added softly. The smile against his skin faltered from shock. Hanzo’s breathing shallowed and he decided to aggressively change topic. “You were right, I don’t really understand American Evangelism, but…I do understand the difficulty in coming out generally. Privileged as I am, being gay in Japan is fraught, too. I didn’t come out until I was fifteen.”

                “When…” Jesse murmured, raising himself up a little to look Hanzo in the eye.

                “Yes, just before my mother died. I had to. We were very close. There was no way I could…I could let her go without saying something. But I also understood it could be…inconvenient for my family, which is why I kept it to myself. We aren’t exactly public, but my father does occasionally make the news in certain circles.”

                “But it went over okay?”

                Hanzo didn’t respond right away; recalling the memory made him very emotional every time, even years later.

                “She thanked me and praised my wisdom and courage for doing it before she passed. That I understood no matter what, speaking it was better than living in doubt the rest of my life.”

                “Yeah,” Jesse wheezed. “She sure is fuckin’ right.”

                Hanzo kissed the top of Jesse’s head in sympathy.

                “Then she asked me if I was worried about telling my father. I was.”

                “You and your dad don’t get along?”

                Hanzo gave an exasperated sigh and gesticulated emptily into the air.

                “It’s not that. He is…hm. Here’s a description: Genji says father and I are too similar in all the wrong ways, and that is why we have difficulty relating to each other. I’ve never been quite sure what that means, but that is his opinion.”

                “ _Oh_ ,” Jesse replied. That _would_ only make sense to someone watching Hanzo from the outside. “So he’s a bit of a stoic, tight-lipped and aloof jackass, huh?”

                “Somewhere, Genji is laughing to himself and he doesn’t know why,” Hanzo replied dryly, and Jesse giggled into Hanzo’s shirt. “But yes, my father and I…don’t connect well. Our conversations tend to end awkwardly. So my mother told him later, when they were alone.”

                “And?”

                “He immediately came home to reassure me. He was…rather distraught I thought I could not trust him. That was the first time ever, even after the entire experience with my mother getting sick, that I saw him cry. You have to understand, this was two weeks before she died. She was declining rapidly, and it was…very difficult for all of us, so I think I may have…unintentionally pushed him over the edge.”

                “Your dad loves you, Han. His response is the _correct_ one.”

                “I…yes, I suppose he does.”

                “You _suppose?_ ”

                “He and Genji are far closer. Always have been. And after my accident…so much changed, it just…I don’t think either of us knows what to do with the other.”

                “Your brother and father must’ve had a hell of time when you got hurt. First your mother…” Jesse said sympathetically.

                “I was in a medically-induced coma for a week after to contain the immediate swelling in my spinal cord. I remember nothing after about an hour before the crash. Even when I came to, there isn’t a whole lot I remember of the initial weeks, either, given the sheer amount of drugs and pain and surgeries. Genji will only discuss it with me in desperate straits, and usually requires a considerable session of drinking. Father will not speak of it at all.”

                “Yeah, that’ll fuck up a family dynamic.”

                “It does.” Hanzo’s voice grew thicker and more bitter as he continued. “I…I _promised_ my mother I would look after everyone when she passed. We both knew what her death was going to do to my father; he adored her. It was my responsibility as first-born. Instead, my father and little brother spent two fucking years basically keeping me alive in _spite_ of me.”

                “Baby, that’s not your fault,” Jesse replied gently, leaning up on an elbow once more to hold Hanzo’s face in a hand.

                “Everything about this is _expressly_ my fault, Jesse. _My_ bike. _My_ stupidity.”

                “And it was my fuckin’ fault I wanted to boost my neighbor’s Mercedes because I thought I could do it in ten seconds flat and no one would ever figure it out. But my foster family dumping my ass over it wasn’t what I deserved for it, right?”

                “No,” Hanzo replied roughly. Jesse gave him a little smile and nodded down at him.

                “See? There you go.”

                One of Hanzo’s hands rose to brush aside a bit of Jesse’s fringe as he hung over him.

                “Do you know how wonderful you are? No, none of that now,” he said as Jesse went a little pink and looked off towards the carpet. “You’re going to let me tell you how handsome and kind you are and just have to put up with it.”

                “So’re you,” Jesse replied without looking back over at Hanzo, who leant up to kiss Jesse’s jaw. That got his attention back properly – he chased Hanzo’s mouth as he retreated for another, deeper bout of kisses. A happy makeout session was certainly the best possible way to end such a mutually-difficult conversation. One of Hanzo’s arms slid around his waist and the hand wedged into the waistband of his jeans.

                “Needy as ever,” Jesse murmured fondly.

                “Why shouldn’t I be, as good as you are.”

                “Goddamn that silver tongue of yours.”

                “Help me to bed I’ll put it to work more thoroughly.”

                Jesse had just picked up Hanzo, the two of them sharing a laugh as they exchanged hammy, overwrought amorous faces, when Hanzo’s phone went off, and he could just see Genji’s name on the screen from his position in Jesse’s arms.

                “ _How_ does he know,” Hanzo sighed, dramatically throwing his head back in mock despair. He had to answer, given he was out of town on business. It could be important news. Sudden tension dulled their mood yet again and Jesse sat Hanzo back on the sofa so he could answer.

                “Genji,” Hanzo said as he answered, flat and passive as he always was in normal conversation. His eyes narrowed and a frown creased his expression. Jesse watched, arms crossed and worry growing in his gut as Hanzo’s face didn’t change.

                “You’re back?” he said, only just brave enough to glance up at Jesse for a moment. “Yes, I am, hence the English. What happened, Genji? _No,_ ” he continued, tone growing a hair sharp. “Don’t do that. We’ve been over this.” His expression shifted from irritation to worry, eyebrows up and jaw a little agape. “What— _Genji_ , _dou shimashita ka_? _Ie ni kaeru._ No, don’t worry about it, just come here. Take a cab. _Don’t fucking argue with me, I can tell._ Okay.”

                Hanzo hung up, distressed.

                “Something’s wrong. He’s home and…extremely upset.”

                “Oh, fuck. Do…do you think—”

                “Almost certainly. But we’ve been rejected before, and he has _never_ been this upset. He won’t tell me. And…he’s been drinking on the flight. That is…” Hanzo chewed the inside of his cheek. “It’s not good.”

                “Should I go _get_ him?” Jesse asked, now equally alarmed.

                “No, he’ll listen and take a cab. But you need to leave. I’m so sorry, Jesse.”

                “Of…of course, sweetheart. He ain’t gonna want me to see him like he is, I understand.”

                “ _I_ don’t want you to, either,” Hanzo confessed. The concern was most evident in him, but Jesse could see the burgeoning upset at his dream slipping through his fingers yet again. He took Hanzo’s hands tight as he watched Hanzo’s eyes grow unfocused and staring emptily into space. “He…he struggles sometimes with drinking. Since…” Hanzo drifted off and shook his head.

                “I…I see. But it’s gonna be okay.”

                “Yes, it will, I just… _why won’t he tell me_? He’s scared of something.”

                Jesse took Hanzo’s head in his hands and tilted it up to really _look_ at him.

                “Breathe, baby. I’ll go, but you gotta tell me you’re okay, first.”

                Hanzo turned his head to kiss Jesse’s palm holding him. He desperately wanted to keep Jesse there for his own sanity, but it wouldn’t be fair to his brother. Genji needed space and his full attention, whatever the reason was for the apparent devastation.

                “I will call you tonight. Whenever…whenever I am done talking with Genji.”

                “Late as you need, Han. I mean that. And if it…it fell apart, I-I’m—”

                For the first time, Hanzo’s distant personal upset cracked his responsible-elder-brother facade to appear on the surface. His eyes closed as his whole countenance grew pinched and he shook his head severely.

                “Don’t.”

                Jesse kissed Hanzo’s creased forehead as an apology.

                “Call me,” Jesse whispered. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but _that_ would be far, far too much.

                “Yes.” When Jesse tried to pull away, Hanzo tightened his hold to keep him there for a beat longer and get one last, proper kiss. This was the best moment he was going to have the rest of the night. “Everything you explained tonight. I haven’t forgotten. Thank you for telling me.”

                “I guess tonight was just gonna be fucked from the get-go, huh?”

                “Apparently,” Hanzo agreed with a huff of sardonic half-laughter.

                Jesse reluctantly nicked up his keys from the coffee table and made for the door. At the threshold, he paused, hand on the doorknob.

                “I’m glad it happened.”

                “What?”

                “Everything I told you. Well, maybe not _glad,_ but…it got me here. That’s all that matters to me, now.” They stared at each other. “Just like you said about your accident. No tellin’ how it’d be otherwise. I gotta stop…regrettin’ it like I do. It’s over. It’s better.”

                “Good,” was all Hanzo could come up with to respond.

                “Bye, Han.”

                “See you soon.”

                The ensuing silence from Jesse’s departure closed around Hanzo and almost hurt like a burn against his skin.

 

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Cait's artist submission for this chapter: the sex scene at the ranch! ( _extremely_ NSFW)

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	4. Chapter 4

                Genji came through the door a half-hour later, looking ashamed of himself. In his distraction and anxiety, Hanzo hadn’t thought to put his braces back on, so he lifted his hand in insistent demand that his brother come to him, but Genji stayed where he was, back against the door once he closed it. Bone-deep worry painted such a vivid picture on Hanzo’s face that Genji couldn’t look at him directly.

                “Genji, please.”

                “McCree left?”

                “Yes. You are upset. He doesn’t need to be party to it.”

                “I’m sorry.”

                “ _For what?_ ”

                Finally, Genji peeled himself from the door and made his way over to Hanzo. When he sat, his lanky form seemed to deflate into the cushions, limp with despair. Even just watching him walk, Hanzo could tell he was still tipsy from whatever he went hard for on the flight. Whiskey, maybe, judging from the vague smell.

                “It’s my fault.”

                Hanzo put a hand against Genji’s back, drifting back and forth reassuringly between his shoulderblades.

                “ _Otouto_. This has happened before. Tell me what bothers you so much.”

                “ _It’s my fault_.”

                “I don’t—”

                “I told them no!” Genji bleated and buried his face in his hands. “I walked away.”

                Hanzo drew his hand away in shock and his jaw hung open.

                “You… _why?_ ”

                Genji’s fingers raked his green hair, knuckles white where he clutched hard in clumps.

                “The…the media tour demands were too much. They were just too much for you, Hanzo. Every day, multiple outlets for months, on top of tour dates. I tried, I _tried_ to talk them down, but they insisted it’s the correct _marketing strategy_ ,” Genji explained, tone savage with bitterness. “That was their final offer, and I said no. I _almost_ told them to go fuck themselves. They just didn’t give a shit what that would do to your health. I-I’m so sorry.”

                Genji gave a heavy sniff like he had talking on the phone call earlier that had first clued Hanzo in to something being terribly wrong, and suddenly he understood Genji’s fear.

                “Did you think I would be _angry?_ ”

                “It was so close, I _know_ you would have said yes if you were there. Of _course_ you’re angry.”

                “Look at me.”

                “No.”

                “Genji, for _fuck’s_ sake.” Petulant little bastard, no matter how devastated. Genji slowly sat up but didn’t turn to look at his brother, so Hanzo took him by the forearm and held it tight. “I am _not_ angry. You’re doing exactly what I want you to do.”

                Genji’s froze in the middle of what he intended to be a rueful shake of his head. His gaze snapped over to stare at his brother and his previously-glossy eyes cleared.

                “Really?”

                “I _would_ have said yes. You’re completely right. I’m a stupid, stubborn son of a bitch and I would have signed and it would have been a huge mistake that would have eventually put me in the hospital.”

                “I didn’t even give you a chance to _read_ it.”

                “ _Good._ Why are you second-guessing yourself? This isn’t like you.”

                Genji flung himself into the back cushion on the sofa and leant into his brother’s body aside him.

                “What if there isn’t another? It was the best chance we ever had, _and_ it’s the _only_ good one we’ve had in almost a year. You were so excited on the way home after that first meeting. And…and you’ve found somebody you care about…You _deserve_ this. We both do; I’ve run my ass back and forth this huge fucking country for three years.”

                “Are you burning out?”

                “I don’t think so.”

                “Tell me the truth.”

                “You’re…you’re _happy_ right now. The most you’ve been in such a long fucking time. I just…I just wanted to get you the other half you’re missing. I always wanted to do that, but…now it’s…it _means_ more. Don’t you _dare_ fucking say it, Hanzo,” Genji snapped when he saw Hanzo grow discomfited and move to speak. They had had the argument he was preempting _many_ times before. “I’m not wasting anything. I asked to come and do all this as your manager because I _wanted_ to.”

                “And I said yes despite my reservations because I knew you were the only person I could trust with my well-being,” Hanzo replied quietly. He shook his head and slipped his arm around Genji’s shoulders to hold his head on the opposite side. Genji balked a little at the display – this wasn’t typical of his brother at all. “I don’t tell you enough how much it means to me that you talk about all this as _we_. You have a lot to be proud of.”

                “ _Anija_. Who are you and what has that cowboy done with my brother?” Genji shot back with an attempt at lightheartedness, but his voice wavered, telling how deeply the confession was appreciated.

                “He simply reminds me where my priorities should be. Which is why I’m not angry at all. You are the only person – well, I suppose one of _two_ people now – that can tell me no. I _need_ to be told no. You’ve been doing it since I was hurt, and it has _always_ been for my benefit. Don’t think I don’t recognize that and still fucking hate it anyway.”

                “Because it means you’re wrong?” Genji offered with a watery smile.

                “Exactly. You bastard.” Hanzo hugged them together, shoulder-to-shoulder. “I’m sorry I ever led you to believe you couldn’t do something like this. I cannot tell you enough that you did exactly what you were supposed to.”

                “I always knew I could if I had to, and that I would. But I assumed it would come at a price. I didn’t expect I’d…feel so guilty about it. I thought I had planned for it, but…I didn’t,” Genji finished with a heavy sigh. No amount of conviction, even for Hanzo’s own good, could quite outstrip the fact Genji was still Hanzo’s _little_ brother, but it was encouraging that _Hanzo_ didn’t see it that way. “I won’t give up,” Genji added, sounding more like his usual self for the first time since he came home.

                “Quite right, and you’ll return to work with gusto, I’m sure, but _after_ you’ve fucked off somewhere for fun for a week.” Hanzo said sincerely. “ _Do it._ Go home and see father. Go to the Cayman Islands and get laid until you pass out. I don’t care, just do something for yourself.”

                “Okay,” Genji replied with soft, relieved laughter, but Hanzo continued to look unsettled. He didn’t speak right away, but Genji kept patient eyes on him as he waited for the words to come. There was no doubt now that McCree was creating a positive effect, but Hanzo’s reticence to level emotionally with Genji, and to an even greater extent his father, would always be mostly-immutable.

                “You frightened me, calling drunk like that.”

                “I-I…that’s the first time in over two years, Hanzo.”

                “Is it?”

                “Yes, honest.”

                “…All right.”       

                Genji stood and rubbed at his face. This went so much better than he ever would have hoped, even when he’d been sober and more rational upon leaving the label’s offices in New York. Foolish though he felt now, he truly had collapsed under the weight of the stress and anticipation. Maybe Hanzo was right about the vacation.

                “Sorry I ruined your date.”

                “It was nothing that hadn’t been damaged already.”

                “Everything okay?”

                “Oh, yes. Jesse felt the need to defend my honor in front of strangers tonight, which was…aggravating, but he learned his lesson. And we had a difficult discussion about…ourselves. I told him about coming out before mother died.”

                Genji’s eyebrows shot up.

                “Holy shit. This…is serious between you, isn’t it?”

                “Yes,” Hanzo replied, though he sounded a bit floored himself to speak it to someone else. He recovered and turned his gaze up to Genji’s in a vague glare. “So try to keep your tirades at him to a minimum, please.”

                “Sorry for _that_ , too,” Genji said sheepishly, picking at his nails rather than look Hanzo in the eye.

                “It’s fine. Just be glad Jesse interceded on your behalf when he told me about it.”

                “He…did?”

                “I _told_ you he reminds me where my priorities should be.”

                What a surprise. Genji assumed the limit on McCree’s charitability at the time to have been not falling to the temptation to punch him in the nose. Hanzo’s happiness had been the chief reason why Genji was keeping his mouth shut even if he himself wasn’t exactly sold on the idea – just because he had reservations didn’t mean he had _proof_ to doubt McCree, after all – but hearing this shifted his perspective considerably. Maybe all that magnanimity Genji had assumed was a show during their argument _wasn’t_ bullshit.

                “I’ll remember that,” Genji muttered.

                “Please do.”

                Hanzo offered a hand, palm up; Genji clapped his together with Hanzo’s and they gripped each other’s hands in solidarity. Everything was okay.

                “Should I get your wheelchair?”

                “Yes, please.”

                Genji did and helped Hanzo transfer from the sofa into the chair so he could get around before going to bed.

                “Goodnight,” Hanzo said with atypical gentility. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long day.”

                “Yeah. ’Night.”

                Soon as Genji left the house and Hanzo locked the door, the suffocating cloud haunting the back of his mind came crashing down and he bent forward in his chair, face in his hands. He’d needed to keep it together for Genji’s sake, but he couldn’t hold up any longer. _Again_. He hadn’t been lying about assigning blame; this _wasn’t_ Genji’s fault, but the goal had been _right there_. How many more times could he put himself through this? He gave a heavy sniff and caught the threatening flood in his right eye on the point of a knuckle. He was a _good_ musician, goddamn it. _Excellent,_ not just technically, but his writing, too _._ If he could walk across a fucking office like he had the first twenty-eight fucking years of his life, he’d have had a record deal six times over by now. Or his father’s job, or…or _something._ He grit his teeth and strangled the handles on his wheelchair. Fuck it, chalk up today as a loss and give it all another try tomorrow. At least he still had… _oh._ His grip relaxed.

                His _boyfriend_.

                Where was his phone? There, sticking up between the sofa cushions, almost entirely forgotten. He snatched it up and auto-dialed Jesse before dropping the phone in his lap with speakerphone on so he could roll around as needed as he dug up something to eat.

                “Hey there, darlin’, everything okay?”

                “Yes and no,” Hanzo replied thickly, and began explaining as he opened the refrigerator.

~

                Two weeks later, Jesse received a text from Hanzo surprisingly early in the morning. Before 10am; _well done, Han._ The text was an address and a door code. Then, another arrived.

                _I am inspired today. Come to this address. Genji will let you in._

                Upon googling, Jesse learned it was a bunch of leased offices – it had to be Hanzo’s formal studio. A thrill ran down his spine. He hadn’t been yet, so that was exciting, but in addition, this meant Hanzo was feeling better in the aftermath of his disappointment over the contract falling through. The day that the news broke, they’d been up late into the night discussing what happened – Hanzo’s worries about Genji as well as his career, and Jesse had done his very best to bolster his boyfriend’s spirits. Nothing was going to work better than time, however, and that seemed to have arrived.

                Jesse arrived at the faceless office building in the late afternoon and let himself in using the door code. He headed to the second floor suite. Genji unlocked the door at his knock and stepped aside to let him in. Neither quite knew how to address each other, so they settled on a mutually-tepid nod. Hanzo was visible beyond, through the window of the audio booth, drumming, though it was silent in the audio mixing room where Genji and Jesse stood at the moment.

                “He’s a drummer, too?”

                “He’s good at everything but brass,” Genji explained. “I think he got the facial piercings as an excuse to pretend that’s why he sucks at it. ‘ _My aperture isn’t any good anymore,’_ he says, like it ever was.” He was mocking, but obviously fond. Jesse was only kind of listening, as he was pretty wrapped up in watching Hanzo silently put all possible physical effort into playing.

                “Can you not, McCree?”

                “Huh?”

                “Stare like you’re gonna jump my brother’s bones through the fucking window _while I’m here_.”

                “Oh. Sorry.” Jesse cracked his neck to ease his minor embarrassment for being so obvious. “So…does he just play without bass?”

                Genji shook his head and turned the audio back on at reasonable volume; there was bass drum in there, to Jesse’s massive surprise.

                “There’s a guy out there that makes custom kits for people with disabilities. Hanzo reached out to him a couple years ago and had one made. He builds electronic triggers into the kit that Hanzo can use and simulate kicks through a speaker made to look like the drum. He could never take it on tour, but he really does prefer to minimize hiring studio musicians because he’s such a fucking perfectionist.”

                “ _You’re_ on some albums, ain’t you?”

                “I am, and that’s because I’m willing to put up with his shit and do a thousand takes to get it right. But I only play guitar.”

                Genji tapped a button, and Jesse could just see a light go off over the window – he was telling Hanzo that Jesse had arrived using the recording signal inside. Though he clearly saw it, Hanzo continued playing a short while longer, finishing his musical thought with a flourish on the cymbals before setting aside his drumsticks and waving at the window to let Jesse in. As soon as Jesse was in reach, he offered a hand to help Hanzo up from the stool he was playing at to make it a bit easier on him. They kissed hello and Jesse eagerly captured Hanzo in a hug. A click from the speakers above interrupted them.

                “Six inches for Jesus,” Genji’s voice came over the intercom from the audio booth. Hanzo flipped him the bird, but Jesse couldn’t help snorting a bit in amusement.

                “Snarky little fucker,” Jesse said.

                “Quite. I have no idea where he gets it from.”

                “Oh, don’t fuckin’ _even_ , Hanzo.”

                “You’re supposed to be on _my_ side!”

                “I’m on your side _plenty,_ even when you’re a rat bastard,” Jesse shot back, leaning in to tease Hanzo’s earlobe with his teeth, which got his boyfriend to laugh low and sexy with a little bit of a flush. Nothing further came from the intercom and Genji had reclaimed his seat at the board, looking chastened; Jesse had won, so he returned his attention to where it mattered most. “What’ve you been up to in here all day?”

                “All sorts of things. But I have something for you, come here.”

                “For _me?_ ”

                Hanzo tugged Jesse by the hand to the piano and invited him to sit. When Jesse did, though with obvious hesitance, Hanzo pointed to a ledger sheet with music hand-written on it. Additional notes and scribbles in Hanzo’s characteristic flowy handwriting, interchangeably in English and Kanji, filled the margins.

                “I kept it simple, don’t worry. Though I should probably write it out a little more neatly for you,” Hanzo explained.

                “You…you want me to play this?”

                “Yes. I’m not sure yet which parts I will ultimately keep, because I intend to sample it for the full song, but that’s not important for what you’re doing here.”

                “Y-you’re gonna _record_ this?” Jesse asked, voice pitched.

                “ _Yes,_ Jesse,” Hanzo replied, snickering. “Not today, of course. Take this home, practice there. Maybe in a couple weeks, we’ll record a few runs.” Jesse was speechless and even a little pale; Hanzo took him by the hand sitting limp on his thigh. “Or…unless you don’t want to,” he added in a rush.

                “No, I…baby, I ain’t no professional,” Jesse said, sounding a bit strangled.

                “Well, no, you’re not, but that’s fine. That’s what I want.”

                “Make an ass of myself for all posterity,” Jesse muttered to himself.

                “What— _no_ , Jesse. You play well.”

                “ _You_ could play this in your sleep.”

                “Yes, _I_ can, but that’s not _you._ I want _your_ sound.”

                “I-I don’t know what that means, Han.”

                “Take this home. Learn it. Practice. Then, when you understand how it goes and can play it confidently, make it _yours_. However it makes you feel, add it in.” Hanzo reached up to turn Jesse’s face towards him. “And if you don’t want me to put it on an album, that’s fine. But I’d like to mix the song I have in mind either way. Something for us.”

                Jesse’s eyes dipped away in thought. This was the brightest Hanzo had appeared since…

                “This is what you’ve been workin’ on since you found out, ain’t it.”

                Hanzo didn’t answer right away; he was lost in recollection of the moment he’d first felt inspired to play again. He’d found the notebook he’d been writing in the morning after his and Jesse’s first night together – it’d been abandoned by more pressing work for the label and all his time spent _with_ Jesse. At first, he’d simply decided it’d be a novelty to play again, but as he had, he remembered all his feelings from that day, imprinted into the composition’s mood and character. The next thing he knew, it was five am the next morning and he’d woken up in his wheelchair with his guitar in his lap and with ten more pages of music hastily written down.

                “Not…not entirely. But…it got me started again, yes.”

                The deep, almost crushing sensation Jesse had felt in his chest when they’d played piano together in his home returned. It was a togetherness so profound, Jesse could only recount a few moments in his life he’d felt it comparably: once with Ana, two with his mother and father separately, and one treasured memory with his parents together, not long before they’d died. It was, admittedly, uncomfortable to be living submerged in _so_ much emotion. He _knew_ what that meant, _knew_ there was no turning back for him now, but the burden sat lightly on his shoulders, considering.

                “Okay. I’ll practice,” Jesse offered, and Hanzo pulled him down for a grateful kiss. “I’m glad you’re feelin’ better.”

                “I am, thanks to you.”

~

                Hanzo looked up from adjusting his mic stand at La Tumba when a flash of light at the door noted its opening. A woman came in; late 40s, with soft brown skin and greying black hair kept in a long braid. Most characteristically, a tattoo decorated her right eye, which, after a second to register its shape, he realized was the Eye of Horus. He couldn’t help but be a little impressed at such a badass choice of tattoo placement. A gauzey shirt and loose linen pants gave her a very ethereal bearing. Elegance radiated off her, but the sharp, bright eyes gave one the instinctual impression this was _not_ a woman to fuck with. She approached the bar and Jack brightened the moment he looked up and saw her.

                “Gabe!” Jack opened the door to the back, shouting. “Ana’s here!”

                Everything below Hanzo’s neck went ice cold. Ana. _Jesse’s Ana._

                Gabe appeared and greeted Ana warmly with a hug. Their position left her facing towards the wall and Gabe facing out towards the bar, where he levelled Hanzo with a _very_ knowing stare that only added to Hanzo’s internal terror.

                “Good to see both of you. I’m sorry my shifts have been keeping me so busy, or I would come by more. Hopefully we can make up the staff we need soon.”

                “We miss having you around,” Jack said, offering Ana a hug of his own. When he retreated, he and Gabe shared a wink.

                “I know that look. You’ve seen him,” Ana said, pointing teasingly at them.

                “That why you’re here?” Gabe asked.

                “Of course. He makes the mistake of thinking he’s safe here, like I haven’t been coming in since you _opened._ All I’ve been getting from him for weeks is one-word texts and all of _two_ calls. I’m working doubles, yes, but I’m not _that_ busy, Gabriel.”

                “So he’s been dodging you?” Gabe continued, raising his voice to make sure Hanzo could hear it. He didn’t need to; Hanzo heard it all and was rooted to his seat in front of his keyboard.

                “ _What_ is with that tone of yours? Is he here, the little shit? Are you hiding him?” Ana asked, clearly amused.

                “Nope, but Jesse’ll be by real quick.”

                “Good, but how are you so sure?”

                “It’s Tuesday,” Gabe replied, flat as a board. Jack couldn’t help it; he busted out laughing and Gabe joined him. “Good fuckin’ luck,” he added, looking off to Hanzo with a hammy wave. Ana turned to look, clearly just noticing Hanzo for the first time in all his glory, pale as death with his jaw agape and frozen unflatteringly.

                “ _What?_ ” Ana asked, baffled, but Jack took pity on her and tugged her over to murmur in her ear while Gabe took a long minute to laugh even harder. Even from where he sat, he could see Ana’s eyebrows shoot up into her salt-and-pepper hairline and her eyes flash with realization. For a moment she remained as she was, clearly analyzing her new information, before tilting her head in suspicious suggestion at both Jack and Gabe. Whatever she was communicating, she didn’t need words for, because they both seemed to understand and shook their heads, though smiles remained on both their faces. She returned a slow nod and turned severely on a heel to march up and regard Hanzo directly. Keen eyes looked Hanzo up and down, lingering on his keyboard and other assorted tokens of his musicianship around him.

                “ _Boyfriend?_ ”

                He was so, _so_ fucked.

                “You…you are…”

                Her eyes narrowed as he spoke and hesitated.

                “Jesse’s mother.”

                Unexpectedly, her expression softened.

                “I am,” Ana replied smoothly. “His foster mother.”

                “Yes,” Hanzo agreed, gathering his courage, “Though he feels no need to make the distinction in describing you.”

                “Ooh, you _are_ fucking clever, aren’t you.”

                “I-I assure you, ma’am—”

                “Good start.”

                Fucking _hell_ , and Hanzo had thought _Gabe_ was tough as nails.

                “How long?” Ana pressed.

                “Uh—”

                “ _How. Long._ ”

                “Five months. Since…since our first date, ma’am.”

                “And how long since _boyfriend_?”

                “One month, ma’am.”

                Ana muttered to herself in a language Hanzo didn’t recognize, but he didn’t need to understand a syllable to know she was cursing to herself. Ultimately, she relaxed some of her aggression and met Hanzo’s obviously-skittish gaze a little more evenly.

                “Good job. Keep those honorifics up.”

                “Absolutely, ma’am.”

                “On second thought, maybe not, the repetition will drive me crazy in no time. Come have a drink with me. Partial paralysis in the mid-thoracic region, yes?”

                Hanzo started in surprise; Jesse _had_ said she was a nurse, hadn’t he. He _hadn’t_ mentioned her effortless talent in rhetorical power plays.

                “Yes, ma—yes.”

                “Are those powered? Do you need assistance?” she asked, gesturing to his braces.

                “N-no. I am fine, thank you.”      

                He leant on his keyboard and stood to make his way out via backstage, since he couldn’t gracefully come down from the stage itself. On his way, he leant out the door to see Genji rooting around in their van.

                “Genji.”

                “Yeah,” Genji replied. When Hanzo didn’t speak again, he turned in confusion and saw his brother’s obvious distress. “What’s wrong?”

                “His mother.”

                “The fuck? _Whose_ mother?”

                “Jesse’s.”

                “ _Here?”_ Genji murmured a string of curses in Japanese when Hanzo nodded affirmatively. “You need a witness? Can I have your guitar?”

“ _No_.”

                “Damn. But really, Hanzo. You’ve got this. I’ll take care of everything and stay out of the way.”

                Hanzo frowned and stared at the pavement under the van as Genji made to hop out from the back.

                “Genji, I…”

                “What?”              

                “You’re not in the way. I know there’s a lot to do, but…come introduce yourself. It can wait a few minutes.”

                Genji froze up where he stood.

                “You want me to meet your boyfriend’s mother. Right now.”

                “I do.”

                They stared at each other, equally floored by the profundity of Hanzo’s request. This was the kind of thing usually asked of… _in-laws._ At length, Genji nodded, however a bit numbly.

                “Yeah, okay.”

                “Thank you.”

                Genji took a deep breath and clapped Hanzo on the shoulder.

                “Of course, _anija_. Let’s go.”

                They headed back in and approached the bar, one of Genji’s arms still slung across his brother’s back. Ana looked up, surprised by the addition. Both boys immediately fell back on their childhood teachings and snapped to almost mechanically to line up before Ana, Hanzo a bit in front of Genji as he gestured to him.

                “This is my younger brother, Genji,” he explained, and Genji bowed a little as introduction.

                “Oh! Another one! Hello there,” Ana replied brightly.

                “A pleasure, ah…” Both boys remembered too late that Hanzo had not told Genji her name. Ana giggled and waved off the faux pas.

                “Ana Amari. Good to meet you, Genji. You are a musician as well?”

                “Not professionally. I am my brother’s business manager, though I occasionally assist with guitar work.”

                “Charming boy. I won’t keep you, then. I’m sure you have things to do; Gabriel told me the set starts at six. Perhaps another time.”

                “Yes, perhaps. Good to meet you, Mrs. Amari,” Genji replied and offered another bow before looking to Hanzo as he left. “ _Ganbatte._ ”

                Hanzo gave his brother a nod of acknowledgement and took a stool next to Ana, where a midori sour he hadn’t noticed before was already waiting for him. Ana was drinking straight bourbon. A very brief, tiny smile flit across Hanzo’s face to note it.

                “So Jesse talks about me with you, but hasn’t said a _word_ to me,” Ana began, circling the rim of her glass with a slow finger while staring down Hanzo. She wasn’t hiding the fact this was, essentially, an interrogation.

                Hanzo let out a long sigh and fiddled nervously with his bridge piercing.

                “In all honesty, I had no idea you were not aware. Had I been, I would have told him to say…at least _something._ I’m sorry we have to meet like this.”

                “Why do _you_ think he hasn’t?”

                “If I had to guess…he’s nervous about it. He’s…nervous about _everything._ I know he has never kept a long-term relationship, so _that_ will make him skittish. But he speaks… _so_ warmly of you, I do not think it’s intended to be underhanded or vicious. I hope, knowing him as well as you do, that you already suspect that.”

                Ana didn’t immediately reply, content to continue drilling into Hanzo’s skull with her stare. She was looking for duplicity, Hanzo could tell. Let her; he had nothing to hide. Miffed though he may be that Jesse unintentionally left Hanzo with his goddamn pants down vis-à-vis his foster mother, it was just that: unintentional. It wasn’t too long before she seemed to be satisfied and returned to sipping her drink.

                “That wasn’t my initial suspicion, but talking to you, I’m inclined to agree, now.”

                “What…what _was_?”

                “Jesse only keeps secrets from me when he feels he’s doing something he’ll be judged for. And I can see how he’d think he might be in his current situation, even under the best circumstances. That I might not understand. Admittedly, I don’t yet, but…I’m glad to discover this _is_ the best circumstance.”

                “I’m afraid I don’t follow. Why would he automatically assume you would view a relationship as ill-intentioned by his partner? He says he’s only _out_ because of you.”

                Ana’s brow rose and fell with ruefulness and she shifted her jaw back and forth as she weighed her response.

                “So you don’t know. Yes, I see. _That_ is why he hasn’t told me.”

                Hanzo had to put in a lot of effort not to recoil in concern.

                “What…what don’t I know?”

                “Oh no, no, don’t make that face. It won’t be nearly as big of a deal to you as it is him. Just remember that when he finally tells you.”

                “You’re certain he will?”

                “I know _exactly_ what Jesse is going to do now that I’ve found out. He _has_ to tell you, if he cares for you as deeply as it seems.”

                Hanzo made a noise like the wind had been kicked out of him and stared at his lap. Did he? Could she tell from just this single interaction with Hanzo? Genji had noted the depth of Hanzo’s seriousness in managing his relationship _twice_ now. Was…was this it?

                “My _goodness,_ you’re having an epiphany,” Ana teased. “You can have that panic attack later. Come, tell me about yourself while we wait for Jesse.”

~

                Jesse itched idly at his shoulder as he walked up to the entrance of the bar. He was excited to show Hanzo his surprise tonight. The second he wrenched the door open, however, all he saw was five feet six inches of incisive Egyptian woman staring at him across the room. Sitting next to Hanzo. Sharing a drink. While talking with Jack _and_ Gabe, too.

                He turned right back around and went outside. Fuck. _Fuck._ He knew he had been living on borrowed time, but _fuck everything._ As he stood out in the parking lot, his hands started to shake, so he flexed them and took a deep breath. Ana had clearly been preparing for Jesse to arrive. She and Hanzo were sitting together; she didn’t look angry, and Hanzo didn’t appear upset. This was…fine? Maybe this was fine. The only way he was going to know for sure was to get back in there.

                Sheepish eyes peered through the threshold on the second entrance, but all four sets of responding gazes waiting across the room were patient and eager to see him. He made his way in slow, hesitant steps, expression obviously chastened, and he couldn’t muster the courage to look Hanzo in the eyes, surrounded by his adoptive family. Mercifully, Jack and Gabe simply gave Jesse a greeting nod and disappeared for the kitchen to give everyone some much-needed space.

                “Hi mom,” Jesse offered in a strained voice.

                “Hello, nuur’ani,” Ana replied, and Jesse’s body almost instantaneously relaxed, reassured by the term of endearment. “You’ve been busy.”

                “I-I…I didn’t…”

                “I know.”

                Jesse stopped at Hanzo’s side; he wrapped an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders while Hanzo ran his arm around Jesse’s waist.

                “Sorry,” Jesse murmured into Hanzo’s hair.

                “Yes,” Hanzo replied, mostly amused with just a hint of miffed.

                “Well, Jesse?” Ana prompted, gesticulating at the two of them holding each other.

                “Uh…yeah. Mom, this is Hanzo. Hanzo, this is, um…my foster mother, Ana.”

                “There. Not as hard as you imagined, hm?”

                “No, I’m pretty sure I’m about to die,” Jesse replied before he could think better of it.

                Hanzo squeezed his waist in reassurance.

                “We’ve been talking. She’s as lovely as you say.”

                “Kiss-ass,” Ana shot, smiling. “And a delightful young man. So I have to plan for one more place setting.”

                Jesse’s burgeoning smile evaporated.

                “ _What._ ”

                “Fareeha is coming home on leave next week and I’ve taken a few days off. I want us all to have dinner together. You’ve been evasive, so I decided not to give you the opportunity to talk your way out and come see you myself.”

                “Mom, I’d never…never back out of a dinner with you and Ri,” Jesse replied, hurt. “I know I ain’t been in touch, but…I wouldn’t miss that.”

                Ana’s expression softened and she nodded. Honestly, she _should_ know better at this point.

                “I’ve just been worried, Jesse.”

                “That’s my fault,” Jesse replied. He let go of Hanzo to take Ana’s hand. “I was gonna tell you. I just been…I needed…” He was _not_ prepared to have _this_ conversation in front of Hanzo, much less in public, but Ana pat his arm and shook her head.

                “You don’t have to say any more right now. Fareeha will be home next Thursday. How does Friday sound for dinner?”

                “That’d be great,” Jesse replied, looking to Hanzo, who nodded in agreement.

                “Absolutely. I’d love to meet your sister.”

                “Wonderful. I’m glad we could talk, Hanzo, regardless of the… _surprise_ ,” Ana said with a small, coy smile. “I imagine you need to get ready.”

                “I do.” Hanzo stood and offered his hand for Ana to shake. “I hope you stay to hear me perform. Otherwise, I will see you next week.”

                “I look forward to it,” Ana replied warmly.

                Hanzo started walking off, but Jesse followed and took his hand to stop him for a moment just out of audible range of the bar.

                “Wait, sugar,” Jesse said. “There’s something I wanted to show you.” Though he always kept his sleeves rolled up, he nudged the cuff up a little higher to reveal the edge of a square on his skin. A nicotine patch. Hanzo’s eyes went wide and he glanced up at Jesse, who was beaming.

                “ _Jesse._ ”

                “Four days.”

                “Y-you…” Hanzo pulled Jesse in for a tight hug. “Darling, you don’t have to—”

                “Yeah, I really do, Han,” Jesse murmured softly enough no one else would hear.

                Hanzo didn’t know how to reply to that in any kind of neutral way, so he settled for planting his face in Jesse’s chest and letting out a long, emotionally-charged sigh. The outside world was catching up to them in a big way, and with that came a greater sense of perspective. The long game was making itself more and more apparent – where they’d been, where they were now, what they… _might_ be.

                “You’re wonderful,” Hanzo said quietly.

                They paused just long enough for a kiss before Hanzo took his leave. Jesse lingered where he stood, watching Hanzo disappear for backstage rather than turn to face Ana alone. She probably wasn’t angry, but Jesse still felt properly ashamed of himself for being evasive. Finally, he shrugged himself back to the present and returned to the bar.

                “ _Are_ you angry? Really,” Jesse asked Ana as he took Hanzo’s seat.

                “No. This is a nice surprise. I was serious when I said I was worried, but now that I have spoken with him, I understand your hesitance.”

                “I-I just…I know this has been quick, mom. I wanted some time behind me. So when I told you, there wouldn’t be…doubt.”

                “You need to let go, Jesse. That was a long time ago.”

                “Then why’re you tellin’ me you were worried?” Jesse asked, tone sharp with cunning, and Ana conceded the point with a sigh. “Gabe tried it, too. Acting like I don’t know why he’s asking pointed questions. I get it, I do. I…I _know_ I’m doing the right thing, okay?”

                “Then you are, Jesse,” Ana replied gently. “No one knows that better than you.”

                Jesse took her hand on the bar next to him.

                “I’m gettin’ what the means more and more.”

                Earnestness soaked Jesse’s tone, and Ana listened thoughtfully. It had been bad form on Jesse’s part, but the correct intention. Her concern eased further; Hanzo was clearly a decent and responsible human being, and _Jesse_ was wielding his independence more confidently than she’d seen yet from him.

                When Jesse first told her about taking over the ranch, he’d been so unsure of himself and still needed that push to find his own stride; every year since had been a gratifying scene of growth for her to witness as Jesse came into his own. This wasn’t the rebellion of his late teens and early twenties anymore, nor was it further harried and unsteady steps towards true adulthood that Jesse had been slower than some to internalize. This relationship was _his_ to make and _his_ to define. A swell of pride filled Ana’s chest to see it. Inwardly, she’d been irked that neither Gabe nor Jack had given her a heads-up, either, but now she understood why they had not. They felt no need; they saw what she was seeing now, too. She, Gabe, and Jack had a _lot_ to catch up on later.

 

                Gabe peeked out from the back, clearly looking to see if the coast was clear, so Ana and Jesse waved him over.

                “Good?” Gabe asked, and Jesse nodded. “Hope you’re not too pissed with me, Ana.”

                “For once, I’m not,” she replied with a wink. “You’ll find another way soon enough.”

                “Can I get some bourbon, too, Gabe?” Jesse asked, trying to keep a straight face.

                “Not ‘til you stop fuckin’ laughing at me,” Gabe replied even as he picked up a glass and flipped it upright in his hand.

~

                The night of the dinner, Jesse had spent two hours at home, cycling through outfits, swapping indecisively between guards on his beard trimmer, and fussing over his hair trying to get ready. Even if the introductions were over and everything seemed okay, Jesse still… _needed_ this to go well. The day before, the anxiety that had been laying mostly-dormant since the plans had been made now kicked into a higher gear, leaving him shaky and avoidant all day even amongst his employees at the ranch. Today had been worse, so much so that Diego had told Jesse to just let him take care of work for the day after Jesse dropped a bit for his horse and threatened to have a meltdown over it. Maybe choosing to quit smoking last week had been a bad idea, but he couldn’t have planned for timing like this.

                Jesse arrived at Hanzo’s house just after four, but he lingered once again in the driver’s seat once he parked, just as he had on the first date. What if _Ri_ didn’t like Hanzo? She tended to be overprotective of him and that could be a point of contention. Would _she_ do what Gabe and Ana had: assume something untoward, or even make a comparison to…to…

                “Jesse,” came a dim voice.

                His head shot up, looking around wildly until he saw Hanzo standing outside, looking in at him worriedly through the windshield. Distraught he was already making a scene, Jesse planted his forehead on the steering wheel and struggled to keep his breathing even. _Perfection_ had been the goal, and it was already ruined.

                “Unlock the truck, Jesse,” Hanzo tried again.

                Without looking up, Jesse did, but was surprised when the door on _his_ side opened. Hanzo’s hand snuck across the top of his thigh and held it tight.

                “Come down here.”

                Jesse didn’t try to fight it and he slid out of the seat; before his feet even hit the ground, Hanzo was pulling him in for a hug, and Jesse clung to him desperately.

                “You’ve been like this all day, haven’t you?” Hanzo asked gently.

                “Sorry.”

                “Don’t apologize.”

                Hanzo’s touch had never felt so good as now, with his hand drifting up and down Jesse’s back, shoulders to waist in a patient trail.

                “It’s going to be okay. You know that.”

                “I-I already fucked it up,” Jesse confessed weakly.

                Learning to properly appreciate Jesse’s anxiety had been a confusing journey for Hanzo. Jesse had told him about it pretty up-front, but their initial time together had been marked with so much ease and happiness, Hanzo had at times completely forgotten about it. He was seeing it more now, as their relationship had rapidly grown serious and Jesse was starting to feel accountable to others, Hanzo included. Text messages and even their frequent phone calls summarizing their days apart made it easy for Jesse to gloss over at first. With the greater understanding he had now, he appreciated just what Jesse had accomplished in approaching him at all and the courage it took for him to follow through, especially when Hanzo had sent that text after the first date. _I understand if you’ve changed your mind about meeting up again. Please don’t feel you need to avoid your friends at La Tumba. I won’t engage._ After such a cold stop, _anybody_ would have simply given the whole thing up as a lost cause. Jesse was _that_ determined to have Hanzo, and though Hanzo’s realization to see it had been slow, it was no less potent to fully recognize now.

                “No, you haven’t, darling. We’ve all been looking forward to this. You’ll see.”

                “Hanzo, before…before we go, I should—”

                “Tell me after dinner.”

                “But…wait—”

                “I _know_ there’s something you need to tell me. Do it after dinner.”

                Jesse locked up in place and his already-shallow breathing stopped. Hanzo wrestled himself free of the involuntarily-tight grip to look Jesse in the eyes, though Jesse stared at the ground, and held his face in both hands.

                “H-how do you know that?” Jesse whispered.

                “Ana made mention. She didn’t tell me what, I promise.”

                “She told…I can’t go. I _can’t_.”

                “Yes, you can. Look at me.”

                Jesse didn’t. Instead, he screwed up his face tight, eyes closed, and struggled not to lose it on the spot in the fucking driveway. He’d been threatening to in various ways all week, home alone, and now he wished he’d done it then where no one would see him. This was pathetic. Ana was right – it had been thirteen _years_ ago, why was he still so fucking upset over it? Hanzo probably wasn’t even going to care. He’d probably _laugh_ at how stupid it was for him to make a scene. It was what he deserved.

                “Oh my god, Jesse, _please_ ,” Hanzo tried again, noticing that Jesse’s eyes had gone blank and very glossy. He got a heavy sniff in return, and he swiped aside the first couple tears that escaped with his thumbs as they slipped by.

                “Fuck everything,” Jesse murmured wetly. “I should’ve had this out with myself when I fucked up trying to hang up my shirts before I left.”

                “No, I’m glad it’s here and now,” Hanzo replied forcefully. “You shouldn’t have to manage by yourself.”

                “It’s been like this all week. Not just today. I’ve never wanted a fucking cigarette more in my entire goddamn life, Han.”

                Hanzo let his hands drift away from Jesse’s face and down to hold his hips and pull them flush against each other. A kiss to the little patch of goatee just under Jesse’s lip relaxed him a notch.

                “But you haven’t had one?” Hanzo asked, deliberate in prompting Jesse.

                “…No. No, I haven’t.”

                “Well done. That’s a victory. It isn’t all fucking up, is it?”

                “No. But I hate needin’ the reminder. Diego walked in on me this morning after I dropped a halter and had to talk me down from… _this._ First time in a long time. I ain’t incompetent. I’m _not._ ”

                “I agree. So you tie yourself up into knots sometimes and need help undoing it. Fine. There are things you cannot do and must rely upon the people you love and trust to accommodate and help you. Does that sound terribly familiar to you?” Hanzo asked evenly.

                “Hanzo, I’d _never_ try to compare—”

                “No, _I_ am. You make space in your life for me to be myself, and you’re there to give me the help I need when I need it. That doesn’t have to change just because it’s you and you can walk and run and ride a damn horse. I am here, making a place for you, too.”

                Jesse found the wherewithal to look at Hanzo for the first time since arriving. He was so, so close. Was it in his face? Would Hanzo be able to tell? It _felt_ patent and obvious and inescapable. It _felt_ like an irrepressible compulsion to march Hanzo right back inside, wrap him up in his arms and say how he felt until his voice went hoarse and risk the terrible apology phone call to his mother later. _Sorry we didn’t show up, mom, I was too busy telling Hanzo how much I love him._

                “’Cause you care,” Jesse chose to reply instead.

                “Exactly. So much, Jesse,” Hanzo said emphatically. They took each other’s hands and held them in an equally-tight grip. “So let yourself live there.”

                He would. He wanted to. Forever.

                “Yeah.”

                “Okay. Take a few minutes for yourself.”

                “No, let’s go.”

                “Jesse, don’t—”

                “I’m not pushing myself. I’m ready.”

                Hanzo wasn’t sure what to do with the new determination lighting Jesse’s eyes and setting his face with some unnameable emotion somewhere between fear, which sat in the angled crease of his mouth, and elation, which left his eyes wide and his brow lifted and eager. But it was an improvement, so Hanzo was just going to take his blessings as they came to him and worry about the rest later. They were going to run late.

                “If you’re sure.”

                “I am,” Jesse said, and caught Hanzo in a kiss that made him see stars. “We can’t keep ‘em waiting.”

                They ended up being about ten minutes late because getting up into the foothills was always a bit of a trek, which did not help Jesse’s still-palpable sense that he’d already ruined everything by not being _perfect._ Fareeha came out the front door to meet them. Ana kept a small Mission-style home, brilliant-white with wrought iron decoration. Jesse’s reticence was ignored as Fareeha rushed up and tackled him in a huge hug. Hanzo noticed she, too, had a Horus tattoo, but on the opposite side, and was dressed in high-waisted jeans and an old ROTC t-shirt she’d obviously modified herself to be a crop top.

                “Hey Ri,” Jesse said warmly.

                “Ooh, I missed you, Jes.” They parted and a wide, teasing smile lit Fareeha’s face. “We got a _lot_ to catch up on, huh? Hi there, I’m Fareeha,” she said, stepping away to extend a gregarious hand to Hanzo.

                “Good evening. I’m Hanzo, though I’m sure you’re…aware.”

                “Oh yeah, mom’s filled me in,” she replied with theatrical ominousness and a wink. “Come on in.”

                Ana was in the kitchen in the back of the house, judging from the distant humming. Jesse’s face lit up as they walked in and he could properly smell what she was cooking.

                “Is she making fattah?”

                “Yeah, I told her I miss it like hell, so she said she’d make it for me. Have you ever had it, Hanzo?” Fareeha asked.

                “I…don’t even know what that is, truth be told,” Hanzo replied self-consciously.

                “It’s okay, I had to adjust to a _lot_ of new foods when Ana first brought me home,” Jesse said, chuckling. “Grape leaves fucked me up real good when she told me about ‘em.”

                “To think you were once such a picky eater,” a voice called from the kitchen.

                “Hi mom,” Jesse called. “I’ll…be right back.” He slid his hand away from the small of Hanzo’s back and headed by himself for the kitchen to give her a hug. “That smells amazing.”

                “You’re damned right it does. Go spend some time with your sister. She’s been talking about you all day. And have Hanzo come in here and help. He needs to earn his keep.”

                “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doin’.”

                “Very well, then. Jesse, go outside with your sister while I interrogate your boyfriend to my satisfaction. Dinner will be ready in an hour.”

                Ana’s sly smile faltered when she glanced over to see Jesse look a little wounded. She reached over to hold his chin and turn his face towards her.

                “Did I ever invite Jeremy to dinner?” she asked directly, and even now, Jesse’s entire torso felt it had flipped upside-down to hear the name so many years later.

                “You didn’t.”

                “Correct. That was for a reason.”

                “Yeah,” Jesse wheezed.

                “I just want to spend a little time with him, Jesse. I have no real reservations.”

                “So you’re not gonna—”

                “Of course not. That’s _your_ job,” Ana preempted as she cut garlic, pausing briefly to point in Jesse’s general direction with the knife. However, Jesse still lingered and appeared no less pained.

                “Am I…is it right for me to still be… _bothered_?”

                “I know how devastating the experience was for you. It wasn’t exactly a _typical_ breakup. Context matters. The question isn’t about what was _right_ up until now, but that if you believe you need to be past it, it’s your responsibility to live up to your own standards.”

                Jesse let out a long sigh and nodded to himself as he cracked his knuckles and wrung his hands anxiously. He was so fucking lucky to have her.

                “I love you, mom,” he murmured.

                “And I love you.”

                Ana smiled as Jesse leant in to kiss her on the top of her head before turning to raid the fridge. Fareeha had secured some beer in anticipation of visitors. Better he drink _that_ rather than get four bourbons deep on his mother’s stock – at least, not for a first visit with his boyfriend. He nabbed a pair of bottles, opened them, and returned to the living room, but neither Hanzo nor Fareeha were there. Soft laughter drew Jesse down the adjacent hall; they were looking at family pictures together. They saw Jesse on approach and their smiles widened.

                “You look _exactly_ as I expected when you were a teenager,” Hanzo teased.

                “Oh, Jesus Christ,” Jesse sighed.

                “Like if you turned right or left, you’d disappear. So thin as to be two-dimensional.”

                “Eat it up while you can, I bet Genji’s got all _kinds_ of embarrassing pictures.”

                “He does. And I have many of him. We keep individual flash drives with examples from the worst of our teenaged years as a kind of mutually-assured self-destruction. It was an agreement we came to years ago after I was a bit too zealous in embarrassing him in front of an old girlfriend. He knows what will happen if he shows you anything,” Hanzo explained coolly.

                Jesse could only respond with narrowed eyes and a half-amused, half-concerned expression, utterly unable to tell just how true what Hanzo was telling him was. He glanced over at Fareeha, who was more openly amused, but definitely had a hint of _is he serious, Jesse_ in her expression.

                “Ri, let’s…head out to the patio.”

                “Great. Rude of you not to get something for your man,” she teased when Jesse handed her one of the beers he’d secured.

                “I know where I’m wanted,” Hanzo replied easily. As he made to step away, Jesse barred him with a hand.

                “Sweetheart, I—”

                “Hush. It will be fine. I hope we can talk more later, Fareeha.”

                “Same,” she replied emphatically. “Come on, Jes, let mom have her fun.”

                Hanzo found his way to the kitchen and was met with Ana’s back as she continued working over the stove. She pointed with her spoon to a package of pita on the counter.

                “Wash your hands and then tear that up for me. Not too small.”

                “Of course.”

                He took up a spot just next to her and got to work, carefully removing the first pita and tearing as asked, occasionally glancing over as the initial pieces grew smaller and smaller for a cue.

                “Perfect, just like that. Do all of them,” Ana said, offering a small smile of encouragement. They went quiet for a bit, the only sound between them the gentle boiling of whatever smelled so damn good on the stove and Hanzo’s rustling with the pitas and the bag they came in. At length, Ana broke the silence. “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in possession of and talented with a guitar must be in want of a cooing boyfriend.”

                Despite himself, Hanzo winced a little.

                “At least that’s what I thought at the outset, seeing you. Men with guitars should be recognized as a weapon of mass destruction.”

                “You have my word I have _never_ played Wonderwall _once_ to entice your son,” Hanzo replied coyly. Relief eased the initial strain in his voice. “But I will confess to a single Eagles song.”

                Ana burst out laughing. He _was_ a good one.

                “Remarkable on your part to turn around my opinion in one conversation, young man.”

                “It’s easy when you have nothing to hide.”

                “ _And_ are too smart for your own damn good, to know that that’s the right answer.”

                “Fair.”

                Ana grew more serious, her wrinkled brow accentuating the gentle lines in her face as she set the oven temperature.

                “Jesse is worried this is an interrogation, but more than anything I want to talk _about_ Jesse with you.”

                “What in particular?”

                “How much has he told you about himself?”

                “Some,” Hanzo replied carefully. “About his parents. His first foster home.”

                “That much? Good. I’m impressed, to be honest. So I’m sure you’ve noticed his anxious tendencies.”

                “Oh, yes. He hides it less since I showed him how many medications I take. He realizes now that a standard antidepressant regimen is hardly anything to be embarrassed by.”

                “Jesse has improved so much over the past ten years, but he still struggles with big changes in his life. Understandable, given his background. Up until he was twenty-one or so, big changes in his life were _not_ something to be excited about.”

                “You think he’s going to panic as our relationship develops?”

                “Not in so many words. But I think he may feel the need to make up for failings that do not exist when stressed. Perhaps you’ve seen some of that already.”

                “He certainly… _frets_ , yes.”

                “Jesse will try very, very hard to prove how supportive he is and bend over backwards even at the cost of himself to take care of you. I don’t think your disability adds to the effect or is even a measurable part of his reasoning. It’s something he feels the need to do for himself. He went a long time pretending not to care about anything around him and spent his most important formative years not being cared _for._ He thinks the way he behaves is something he has to choose and that he’s beating back what he thinks is _really_ true of him.”

                “That isn’t true,” Hanzo rebutted emphatically. “Jesse is the kindest human being I have ever met.”

                Ana appeared touched and regarded her work arranging the pita pieces Hanzo had given her on a pan with a soft smile.

                “I think he fears and believes in his quote-unquote _true_ nature less than he used to, but that fear casts a long shadow in his life. It would be easy to mistake all that for the pity you expect to see from idiot strangers, so I feel compelled to explain it here so that you’ll remember when things are frustrating for you.”

                Hanzo stilled in surprise, half a pita in-hand.

                “You make my place in Jesse’s life sound…permanent.”

                “I’ve never seen Jesse speak or act as confidently in himself as he does talking about you. Why _shouldn’t_ I offer you insight into Jesse’s greater psyche to ease potential stressors between you?”

                Hanzo looked over to Ana, who was already looking at him with a little smile on her face.

                “It…it _is_ helpful. Reyes isn’t much of a talker.”

                “Never has been. Don’t take it personally.”

                Hanzo returned a numb nod and finished his work tearing up the pita. He leant against the counter and watched Ana toast them on the stove.

                “He had a panic attack when he came to pick me up. That’s why we were late,” Hanzo said quietly.

                “About Jeremy, I assume,” Ana replied. Hanzo’s head shot up to stare at her. “Or rather, his assumed inevitability Fareeha or I will make comparisons.”

                “I told him I knew he had a story to tell me. I’ve never seen him so upset, even when he told me about his other foster family.”

                “Yes. The issues dovetail, but it’s safe to say Jeremy is and remains a sorer subject for him than anything else. I’m not sure he’s ever told _anyone_ the entire story.”

                “ _You_ know.”

                “I was there. As were Gabriel and Jack. Fareeha…Fareeha only knows Jeremy is an ex-boyfriend. I doubt Jesse told her how they broke up, especially in the immediate aftermath. He would have been far too concerned at the time that Fareeha would lose her admiration of him. But that’s _Jesse’s_ anxiety dictating his perspective. It is his story to tell, of course, but Jack, Gabe, and I all would describe it as one particularly stupid mistake, and one he has _more_ than redeemed himself for. Just listen to him and remind him when he’s done that all of it is just a story to you and changes nothing about what you feel.”

                Hanzo flashed back to their first date. _McCree. It changes nothing._ It wouldn’t, he knew that no matter what the truth may be. There was nothing a man like Jesse – dutiful, strong, loving Jesse – could do that Hanzo would recoil from, even in his mistakes.

                “I will.”

~

                Jesse and Fareeha walked outside, their shoes scratching the flagstone underneath too harshly for Jesse’s nerves. A hand at his arm made him start.

                “Easy there,” Fareeha soothed. “Haven’t seen you this wound up in a long time.”

                “Well…” Jesse mumbled, and showed Fareeha his nicotine patch. Her eyebrows shot up.

                “For real?”

                “Yeah. For real, for real. I can’t anymore. Hanzo…it ain’t good for him.”

                “It isn’t good for _you._ ”

                “I _know_ , I just mean _in particular_ for him. His injury fucks with his chest muscles and his breathing and stuff. I’m lookin’ into updating the windows and doors in the house, too. The ranch kicks up a lot of shit, especially in spring. _What?_ ” he demanded, looking at Fareeha’s touched expression.

                “That’s so sweet.”

                “He just…needs a little extra consideration sometimes, that’s all,” Jesse mumbled nervously.

                “He’s very charismatic, a musician, _and_ he seems to have a pretty dry sense of humor. I can see how you fell so hard for him.”

                “I-I ain’t…” _Yeah, I have._

                “You can’t even finish that sentence, dumbass.”

                “He’s just…he’s great, Ri,” Jesse replied softly.

                Fareeha eased up on her teasing to capture her brother in another hug. Jesse returned it tightly, unwilling to admit out loud how soothing it was for his ragged nerves.

                “I’m really happy for you. Mom told me almost as soon as I got in last night and I haven’t seen her so excited in a long time. You’ve got a ton to give, Jes. I’m so glad you found somebody who appreciates it.”

                “And _I’m_ glad you can tell that’s what it is. I-I…was worried.”

                It certainly was Jesse’s nature to _worry_ , but Fareeha wasn’t about to tease him for that. She knew how compulsive and stressful it was for him. As a teenager she had been far less gentle in her mocking, before she truly understood how difficult it was for him. She had liked Hanzo almost immediately, even from their brief conversation out in the living room while Jesse had talked with Ana.

                “First thing he asked once you were out of earshot was whether or not you were a nu-metal fan as a teenager and what the most embarrassing act you liked.”

                “He wh—”

                “And I told him you listened to Saliva religiously your junior and senior year.”

                “This is the ultimate betrayal,” Jesse sputtered.

                “He had to try _really_ hard not to let his laughter be audible. And that’s how I knew he was a keeper.”

                Jesse’s embarrassed flush didn’t abate, but his anxiety in his chest released a bit more.

                “Just like that?” he asked.

                “Yep,” Fareeha replied with a laugh and a reassuring smile.

                Jesse smiled down at the rock underfoot. Goddamn it, he missed having her around all the time.

                “Thanks.”

                “You gotta tell me all about your meet-cute and how hot he is playing his guitar.”

                “Not until you catch me up on what you’ve been doing on base,” Jesse shot back and gestured with his beer to the patio setup Ana kept in the backyard. “What kinda trouble have you been gettin’ up to?”

~

                Dinner passed delightfully. Together, the four of them settled more comfortably in their acquaintance, sharing stories about Jesse, their common bond, as well as themselves. Fareeha and Hanzo in particular had enjoyed a spirited discussion about Japan, as Fareeha had spent a short time overseas there on assignment. Jesse and Hanzo lingered long enough to help clean up and far too soon, they were slipping their shoes on in preparation to leave.

                “I hope we can do this again soon,” Hanzo offered genuinely.

                “Yes. Jesse and I try to have dinner once a month or so, but I work a lot of double shifts and it can get hard to coordinate,” Ana said.

                “We got a little more incentive now,” Jesse murmured.

                “We do,” Ana agreed as she opened her arms to Jesse for an embrace.

                “Thank you so much.”

                “I haven’t done anything. You did.”

                Everyone exchanged hugs before at last Jesse and Hanzo left, hand in hand. They loaded up in the truck – Hanzo sat in the middle of the bench seat so Jesse was within cuddling reach – and got back to Hanzo’s home a little before ten. All the way home, Jesse had been felt like he’d been knocked a bit stupid by how… _easy_ that all had been. His family liked Hanzo, and vice versa. No drama. No hard questions. No… _doubt._

                “I need to get out of my braces,” Hanzo mumbled and wandered off for his bedroom. He got all the way to bed and turned to sit when he realized Jesse had not followed, but was too weary to backtrack and began tearing the velcro free. “Jesse?”

                No answer came, but Jesse eventually trudged in with a blank expression just as Hanzo had freed himself and slung his legs properly onto the mattress. It was distressingly similar to how he’d looked hours before when he’d first arrived, and Hanzo’s heart sank anew.

                “What’s wrong? Come here.”

                Jesse sloughed over and took a seat on the edge of the bed next to his partner; Hanzo couldn’t get hands on him fast enough, carding aside the hair fallen in front of Jesse’s face in an attempt to soothe. The day was clearly catching up with him all over again.

                “This is…good, right?” Jesse asked weakly.

                “Of _course_ it is, Jesse.”

                “So you feel it, too.”

                “I…I do, yes. What’s this about?”

                “Is it gonna stay that way?”

                Hanzo came up short. What kind of question was that? Exhaustion from all the preparing and socializing made it a bit harder than usual for him to really think through Jesse’s sentiment properly.

                “Of course it won’t. You can’t live frightened of something that is bound to happen. Nothing ever stays in one place, you know that,” he replied. Immediately, Hanzo understood he had given the wrong answer, because Jesse’s hand began to grip hard at the bedspread underneath it. “I-I only mean…that…that sometimes, bad things happen. Arguments. Accidents—”

                Jesse grew deathly pale. _Terrible_ choice of words. Hanzo put his hand over Jesse’s now strangling the sheets.

                “That’s not…I’m so sorry, Jesse, that’s not what I’m trying to say. It all passes. We’ll have good days and bad, darling, but we have each other. Even when it isn’t good, we have us. Right?”

                “The last times I had somethin’ this good…I fucked it up. Or it…it died.”

                Hanzo yanked Jesse over for a tight hug. For all Hanzo had been through in his life, it didn’t quite compare to what it must mean to have _everything_ around you taken from you without ever witnessing it. Hanzo only lost his old life, and even then, he’d made something new in the subsequent years. He still _lived,_ hard as it had been for him to really internalize the fact and _do_ something about it as he had recovered. He still had his brother and father and even with the loss of his mother, he had had a real opportunity – if not a complete one – to know her before she passed too soon. What Hanzo had lost was within him; Jesse had lost from _without_.

                “I know something happened, but Ana and Fareeha and Gabriel and Jack are still your family, no matter what you did. And…and your parents…they loved you, and they always will. It can still be good, Jesse, even after losing something you can’t get back. It’s not a template for your life.”

                “Baby, all the rationality in the world won’t take away the fear it is anyway,” Jesse murmured back. “I know what you’re sayin’. I tell myself that all the time. And I’m still fucked up by it anyhow.”

                “Well, I…you…you’ll see, someday. There will be an issue, and it might be terrible, but you and I will wake up next to each other the day after and everything will be as it should again. We’re both survivors, right? We’ll do it together next time.”

                Jesse buried his face in Hanzo’s shoulder. Jesus Christ, did he ever want to believe that. He _wanted_ in a way he hadn’t let himself for several years. Security. Partnership. _Fun,_ all with someone else _._ Something he could keep and retreat to when the world felt overwhelming. This was so perfect and complete and _necessary_ , Jesse knew he could never possibly manage going without ever again.

                Hanzo grit his teeth and let out a long, stressed sigh. Jesse was all but sprawled in his lap, all muscle and flannel and… _size_ wrapped around Hanzo’s body, yet impossibly small, locked in his current headspace. All his tension and fear were right there under Hanzo’s hands, and he would give anything just to be able to soak it up through the pads of his fingers to keep it away and safe from Jesse.

                “That’s better, right?” Hanzo continued. “Together. I…I _want_ that. If it has to happen, it’s fine if it’s with you. So many things would have been different if you’d been there the day I got hurt, Jesse. Not…not that I…”

                “I understand, Han.”

                “Good. I just…I can do _anything_ if you’re here. That’s the difference, that’s what I feel.”

                Jesse sat up to give Hanzo a lingering kiss, impassioned but relatively chaste, as his jaw was so taught from his stress. His hand trembled slightly in place even as Hanzo squeezed it tighter.

                “I feel that, too. Even when I’m a fuckin’ wreck. Even when I’m too fuckin’ scared to talk about my first fuckin’ ex-boyfriend without getting a pep talk from my goddamn mother first.”

                Hanzo smiled and rewarded Jesse with a reassuring nudge of his long, angled nose along the edge of Jesse’s beard. That shivering but nonetheless keen edge of determination in Jesse’s voice could sustain Hanzo for a damn year on the pride alone.

                “That’s more like it. Tell me. You’ll feel so much better.”

                Jesse nodded and let up from where he’d pooled across Hanzo’s body to kick off his shoes and get into bed properly. They laid together against Hanzo’s mass of gigantic pillows, Hanzo now folded against Jesse. To continue soothing, Hanzo nudged open another button on Jesse’s shirt and traced lazy, aimless lines around his collarbone.

                “His name was Jeremy. I…I met him in juvy. He was almost a year older than me. There was a whole cadre of queer kids in there, and he was one of ‘em. Nobody goes in for long – my four-month sentence was on the more extreme end – but some of ‘em are in and out, so they get to know each other. We were in for the same amount of time, but offset by a month. And when you’re sixteen, three months is…a long time when you’re together every day. He was my first…everything. I don’t know how we didn’t get caught the first time we fucked in that shitty storage closet. We were _not_ subtle.”

                Hanzo smiled into the bit of Jesse’s shirt he was nestled into.

                “You’re not subtle now,” he said, and as hoped, got Jesse to chuckle a little, so Hanzo’s head jiggled a bit on his chest.

                “When I got out, and I met Ana, we stayed in touch. He got a hold of a couple shitty flip phones and we bought minutes for ‘em to send texts on the down-low. Met when we could. I’d sneak out real late; at that time I…I didn’t trust Ana. I didn’t trust anybody but Jeremy, really. Comin’ off what happened in my last home, I figured fuck it, only a matter of time ‘til I get kicked out of this one, too. I didn’t see the point in trying to maintain a façade anymore. I kept it on lockdown for a few months after release before Ana finally caught me. That’s how she…found out I was gay. I was stupid and let the _he_ pronoun slip because I got mad at her _audacity_ , tellin’ me what to do.”

                “What happened?”

                Jesse didn’t reply right away, but the deep, shaky breath he took told Hanzo all he needed to know patience was all that was required.

                “She came at it from kind of an oblique angle. Didn’t ask clarifying questions or for past context. Just challenged how any boyfriend could be even half-decent if I met him in juvenile detention. That threw me for a pretty huge fuckin’ loop. Got me to sit my ass down and really listen to her. And she told me she couldn’t let me go see him like that, but that I had to understand it was because of the principle that I was _fucking_ _off_ , not _who_ I was _fucking_. She…didn’t mince words.”

                “I have spent one evening with her and find that wholly unsurprising.”

                “We talked all that night and I didn’t go to school the next day. Eventually, we came to the agreement that if I wanted to see Jeremy, it had to be during the day, she had to know where I was going and be back for a curfew, and I got a _very_ long and colorful speech about safe sex practices.”

                Hanzo couldn’t help but snicker a little bit at picturing _that_ scene.

                “When I told Jeremy what happened…” Jesse paused and Hanzo peeked up to see distant hurt on his face. “He flipped. Told me I was a sucker for buying into what Ana was saying. That should have been my first goddamn clue…but it wasn’t. We kept up for several months, but Ana and Jeremy never met. Right before I turned seventeen, Jeremy was arrested for illegal discharge. Got in a fight and fired into the air. They threw the book at him with extra charges and because he was _almost_ eighteen, he went to county jail for six months.”

                “Charming,” Hanzo couldn’t help quipping.

                “Look,” Jesse replied with a weighty huff, “I’m not gonna…there’s no excusing a lot of the things Jeremy did, but…he came from a really shitty home with a maladjusted military father. Got slapped around and ran away and hauled back home several times over until they found out he was queer and kicked his ass out. It’s not like he was a born sociopath. There were real reasons I cared about him, okay?”

                Hanzo apologized for his flippancy with a soft kiss to Jesse’s collarbone.

                “I…of course there were. You have an extraordinary talent for seeing the good in everything and everyone.”

                “When we met, he just wanted something to care about and get it back, same as me. We told each other everything that got us in detention and we just…bonded. We were kids and stupid and thought that meant that was the fucking alpha and omega of love and it was us against the world.”

                Frustration blended with remote but still-tangible anguish in his voice. It wasn’t as if he was living it as present tense, but it was definitely apparent that what he was describing was one of the foremost formative experiences of his life, possibly only topped by being orphaned.

                “Go on, darling,” Hanzo said.

                “I started working for Gabe in that time. Me and Jeremy wrote each other while he was in, but after he was released, it was hard for us to meet because I was finishing my senior year – he dropped out of high school after he was released from his detention sentence where we met. He texted me one day that he couldn’t find a place to stay in Tucson and was going to have to go out to Phoenix and stay with his sister. Found out later it was because he’d been kicked out of his group home for fighting.”

                It didn’t escape Hanzo’s notice that Jesse’s previously-relaxed hand at his waist was starting to tug at Hanzo’s denim vest as his grip tightened.

                “I made it up there for a few trips and we kept in contact, but he was changing. Growing harder. I’m still not sure what he got up to while he was living out there, but I know it wasn’t good. We never _really_ called it off in that time, but he was slipping away and I was too stupid and desperate not to go chasin’ him down for what little I could get. I knew enough of what was going on to know he was…giving up. Not necessarily on me, just…trying at all. And at the time, I told myself it was temporary and Jeremy would figure his shit out like I was, little by little. That went on for a while. And then…on one trip, we…”

                Jesse faltered and Hanzo could feel the now-familiar tension in Jesse’s chest that cropped up when his anxiety peaked.

                “Workin’ for Gabe and Jack was rough. They’re hard-asses, which I’m sure is _not_ a shock to hear. They don’t talk about it a lot, but Gabe and Jack met and served together in the Army when Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was a very real thing. Ana got me that job there because she knew they’d keep me in line, give me a work ethic, and…sympathize, I guess, with what I’d been through. I _hated_ it at first. Gabe and I…shouted at each other more than once. It was particularly bad one time when I wanted to go out to Phoenix for a whole weekend and he needed the extra staff; the whole thing ended with me telling him to fuck off and I walked on him, got in my car, and went straight to Phoenix.”

                Unexpectedly, Jesse sat up straighter and let go of Hanzo to start picking at his cuticles. His eyes went wide and flattened as he stared at nothing in his lap. Hanzo spread a hand across Jesse’s thigh and pet across his jeans with the thumb.

                “God, I fuckin’ hate…I hate this. I hate that it happened and I gotta talk about it.”

                “I know, Jesse, but it’s over. It’s just a story,” Hanzo tried, thinking back on his conversation with Ana earlier.

                “Don’t feel like a fuckin’ _story_ to me,” Jesse replied, voice beginning to tremble. “I ain’t told _nobody_ about this, Han. Not Ri. _Sure as hell_ not my fuckin’ boss at the ranch. Jesus, he’d have never fuckin’ hired me.”

                “But he did,” Hanzo countered. “And he grew to trust you with his entire life’s work. Because you’re loyal, hard-working, and genuine. That’s not an exception, Jesse. It’s the rule.”

                Hanzo’s rebuttal was the perfect, immaculately-pointed object to get in-between the joints of Jesse’s crumbling armor and stability and he began to tear up. He put his head in his hands. Why didn’t Hanzo see how patently idiotic and irresponsible he was? Even if Jesse was better than he used to be, he still had his moments, like the night they’d gone to dance at the bar, where his first instinct was a clenched fist or shameless intimidation. There were so many days were that _felt_ like the rule to him. He took a deep breath and straightened.

                “I was still pissed when I got to Phoenix. I unloaded it on Jeremy and…and by the end of the night, he convinced me the best possible way to get back was to knock over La Tumba.”

                “Knock…over?” Hanzo asked carefully. That was a bit of American parlance he’d never heard before.

                “Rob it, Hanzo. We robbed Gabe and Jack.”

                Despite himself, Hanzo balked.

                “Well, tried to. Tried and failed miserably.”

                “I…wow,” was all Hanzo could come up with, and Jesse wilted further.

                “Yeah,” Jesse rasped. “Son of a _bitch_ , it’s…it’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever done. We thought it was the fuckin’ heist of the century. We drove down the next night – since I’d fucked off on Gabe, I had my keys for the back door. Gabe and Jack never gave me the combo for the safe, ‘course, but I’d closed on weekends in the past and knew… _a couple_ of the numbers just from passing observation. We figured – Jesus fuckin’ _Christ_ I sound like a complete dipshit explaining this – we figured we could get the last number if we tried enough times. Get in a couple hours after close and have a few hours to figure it out. Easy as goddamn pie. Except it turned out to be Gabe’s birthday and Jack came in at four in the morning to get a head start on makin’ something special for him in the kitchen. I had no idea.”

                “Oh shit,” Hanzo murmured.

                “ _Oh shit_ is right. I had been in the back office fucking with the safe. Jeremy had been out front checking out the top-shelf liquor when Jack came in.” Jesse paused and Hanzo glanced over to see deep sorrow in the lines of his face. “He bolted out the back. The sound of running and the door snapping shut was my only warning. I never saw Jeremy again.”

                “ _Jesse_.”

                “I know,” Jesse replied, breaking down. “I was so fucking stupid.”

                “Hush, darling,” Hanzo soothed and pulled Jesse over to hold him close. “I’m not admonishing you. I’m so sorry you had your heart broken in such a terrible way.”

                “I did,” Jesse replied in a stressed hiss. “I loved that son of a bitch – as much as any goddamn idiot of an eighteen-year-old can love somebody, at least. He listened to me piss and moan like he always had and fed me consolation sex and I ate it up even as he suggested the whole stupid fucking thing. I never stopped to think for ten seconds.”

                “It’s okay.”

                “ _No_ , it fuckin’ _isn’t_.”

                “Stop talking, Jesse.”

                Jesse tensed up, about to argue, but Hanzo pet gently at the nape of his neck and after a few seconds, he went slack against Hanzo. He’d opted to hide again in Hanzo’s neck, and Hanzo could feel a touch of damp against his skin where Jesse’s cheeks met his skin.

                “I’m sorry.”

                “Didn’t I just tell you to stop talking?” Hanzo replied, tone soft and warm despite his seemingly-harsh words. He turned his head enough to press a kiss to Jesse’s ear. They stayed that way for a little while so Jesse could make some rhetorical and emotional space for himself from what he’d explained. When Jesse finally pulled away, he used both hands to swipe at his face and let out an unsteady sigh.

                “So I was left there alone. Jack cornered me and didn’t say a fucking thing as he pulled out his cell phone to call Gabe. Waitin’ for him to arrive was the _worst_ half-hour of my entire fucking life. I’m…fuckin’ shaking just thinkin’ about it. I started crying the second he saw me, like that,” Jesse explained, snapping his fingers. “He gave me the longest look and took Jack out to the kitchen. They shut me in the office while they talked. I thought I was gonna die in there, it seemed to take so long.”

                Hanzo watched Jesse’s continuing angst in his face start to break with a shade of gratitude as he shook his head with seeming disbelief.

                “They came back in and Gabe told me they weren’t going to call the police…but I was going to stay here with them and they were gonna call _Ana_. I distinctly remember wishing they just have me arrested instead. I didn’t think I’d live through havin’ to face her over it. But I was eighteen by then, and if he had made the call…it’s a felony. That would have been real-ass jail time. She came, and we spent hours talking. They made it a whole-ass intervention. I don’t think I stopped crying the entire time and we were there almost until noon. They decided they weren’t gonna fire me, but it was gonna be _real_ thin fucking ice for me for a while. It ended with Gabe leanin’ over the table, lookin’ me dead in the eyes, and saying ‘Y _ou know this the last chance you’ll ever get, right, Jesse?’_ I’ll never fuckin’ forget the way he said it and the look on his face, long as I live.”

                “That was incredibly gracious of all of them. I…I have to confess I’m pretty surprised Gabe didn’t simply have you carted off.”

                “Me fucking too. But there weren’t anything _gentle_ about his alternative, either,” Jesse said, voice still very thick. “The couple days after, I…I fell apart completely. The shock of the robbery wore off and Jeremy didn’t even attempt to contact me, so that piled onto everything else. I never hated myself more than that week after we got caught, and I tore the hell outta myself over it.”

                “Your…your scars?”

                Jesse nodded. Anguish and repentance were etched in his flushed expression.

                “I’d been doin’ it off and on since I was thirteen, but I really fucked myself up one night. Made enough noise and Ana was already on alert keepin’ an eye on me that she came lookin’ and caught me at _that_ , too. It wasn’t a serious suicide attempt, just me taking everything out on myself. I think she must’ve told Gabe and Jack about it, because when I went back to work, they were…nicer than I expected them to be. I was so nervous, I dropped and broke a bunch of shit, but they were both so patient with me.”

                For the first time, Hanzo’s passiveness broke and he pulled a distraught frown as he insisted Jesse straddle his lap, since Hanzo couldn’t simply crawl all over his partner like he wanted to. Soon as Jesse’s big, burly form had settled in, Hanzo threaded his arms around his neck and held him tight.

                “Oh no baby, I’m sorry. Was that too much?” Jesse asked, genuinely worried.

                “Shut your mouth,” Hanzo shot back, aggressive but also clearly upset. “Nothing is too much.” He needed to find a way to thank Ana and Gabriel at some point for doing everything they had that Hanzo could meet this gorgeous, gentle, _excellent_ man. “I’m just… _grateful_ I’ve gotten to meet and know and…and—“

                It sat right there, just behind his teeth. That single, terrifying word.

                “And _keep_ you,” he whispered instead.

                They kissed long and lazily to mutually calm down and eventually rested their foreheads together. Jesse reveled in the opportunity to immerse himself in this still-new sense of security in talking about himself. Hanzo was a tether for his worst tendencies to overanalyze and stress himself out; here, he could babble on and get it all out there and someone was still waiting for him at the end when he scrambled back up to rationality.

                “You remember the night we met? How I told you I paid up my bar tab for a decade?”

                “Yes, I do.” As if Hanzo could possibly forget one moment of that first night.

                “I was bein’ coy. The first year I ran the ranch, I went to La Tumba and gave them $5000. That’s what was in the safe that night Jeremy and I tried to rob the bar. I made sure to bring it in cash because I knew if I gave them a check, they wouldn’t deposit it. I never took it, and they didn’t need it, but I…I just _had_ to do that. Part thank you, part apology. I told ‘em to go on vacation.”

                “That is…so _you,_ ” Hanzo replied fondly.

                “So, that’s what happened. I made the mistake a couple years ago of looking Jeremy up on the state criminal database when I was at home and had a little too much to drink. He was in on possession with intent to distribute. Judging from the state of him in the mugshot, it was…probably meth.”

                “I’m so sorry, darling,” Hanzo said and planted another kiss on his forehead.

                “I don’t… _miss_ him anymore, and I haven’t for a long time. It’s still upsetting, though. Everything that happened fucked me up, but the thing that still gets me today is how close I was to goin’ with him down a path like that. Just a fuckin’ hair’s breadth, Hanzo. It took me years to shake off the feelin’ I was one bad day from goin’ to jail.”

                “This is why you haven’t had a committed relationship, either?”

                “Basically. I didn’t date at all again until I was twenty-five. That whole year after Jeremy dumped my ass in the worst way possible, I…I thought maybe my first foster family was right about all the shit they’d told me about… _that lifestyle_ , but I didn’t talk about it with mom. Even though she’d gotten wise to me hurtin’ myself, I…got away with it a few more times before I got caught again. It was after the fact, but she could tell I wasn’t walkin’ right. She…I ain’t ever, _ever_ had anybody just… _love_ me the way she did when she got me to fess up. You’ve seen how tough she is; she and I _both_ cried a lot that day. After that, she started payin’ out of her own fuckin’ pocket for me to see a therapist. ‘ _Should have done this the first time around_ ,’ she told me, but I don’t think I’d have agreed to at the time anyway. I still go once in a while when I feel the need. That’s where the anti-depressants and the diazepam came from, I’m sure you can guess.”

                Jesse was out of story and any energy to try and put a good coda on the thing, so he simply fell silent, head bent down staring at their joined laps. Hanzo’s palms smoothed up and down Jesse’s chest, making his eyelids flutter from relief.

                “There, you did it. Feel better?”

                “Maybe tomorrow, yeah. Not so much right now.”

                Helplessness wracked Hanzo; that wasn’t good enough for him. Not after everything Jesse had accomplished today. He didn’t want to be gauche, but he couldn’t think of any other, more expedient way to make Jesse feel better. He leant in and pecked Jesse’s goatee with a tiny kiss, gentle and inviting.

                “Let me get you there sooner than that.”

                Jesse’s face pinched for a moment in confusion before realization smoothed the lines in his face. Tempting. Recollection and its ensuing stress had left him feeling caged-up.

                “Ain’t you tired, sugar?”

                “I can work around that. But only if you truly want to.”

                Jesse enclosed Hanzo in an embrace so slow and gentle he may as well have been so much putty oozing around him.

                “If you’ve got somethin’ to give me, I want it. Nothin’ makes me feel as good as you do.”

                Hanzo’s hands slipped down and behind Jesse’s back to begin pulling up the hem of his shirt. They’d undone enough buttons earlier to pull it off with relative ease. After giving his head a good shake to clear it, Jesse reached for Hanzo’s vest.

                “Just that,” Hanzo said. “We’ll worry about the rest later. This is just for you.”

                “Han—”

                “I _am_ tired, Jesse. But I will take care of you nonetheless. Lose the jeans.”

                Jesse reluctantly got off Hanzo’s lap so he could do so. Once naked, Hanzo drew his finger in a circle as gesture for Jesse to roll over. Weight spread across the backs of Jesse’s thighs and he peeked over his shoulder to find Hanzo sliding himself down the bed so his head was around his hips, and he flushed heavily.

                “What…what’re you doing?”

                “Don’t tell me you’ve never been eaten out, darling.”

                That had been the answer Jesse was somewhat expecting, but his flush crept down to his shoulders and left him gibbering anyway. Hanzo chuckled low and heavy before dipping his head to take a soft, full-mouthed bite of his ass. He slid a hand down the interior side of one of Jesse’s legs and could feel the tendons growing tight as Jesse curled his toes a little.

                “We’ll fix that. Put a pillow under your hips.”

                “Y-yeah, okay.”

                While Jesse did that, Hanzo sat up and rolled himself over to open up his nightside table. Lube appeared along with a sizeable plug, which Hanzo fiddled with until it began making a soft _brrrr_ noise and he held it up in example to his partner. Jesse’s gut fell through the floor and Hanzo spent a moment thoroughly enjoying his surprised-but-enticed reaction before turning it back off again.

                “Later. I know you’ll be begging to have _something_ inside you eventually,” Hanzo explained, calm with an undercurrent of wicked, anticipatory amusement. Jesse had set himself up as instructed and curled up into the mattress, half-rutting into the pillow with a needy sigh. Since Jesse was so long, he’d splayed himself out diagonally on the bed; Hanzo easily lifted his own upper half over one of Jesse’s legs so he was nestled between them. Then he brought his sluggish legs over, but he needed to help himself by lifting them over Jesse’s meaty thigh one by one before he could lay out again on his belly.

                “Ha— _ah,_ ” Jesse gasped when Hanzo suddenly parted him and introduced himself with a heavy, full lave of the tongue against his hole. He scrabbled for another pillow nearby and strangled it with an arm. Hanzo dipped lower and, with the point of his tongue, drew a soft line up his taint in a few passes before returning to his asshole proper in a firm, wet circle.

                “Okay, yeah, I get the appeal, now,” Jesse panted. “Holy shit, baby, let me have more.”

                Hanzo slid aside to nip at the plush skin of Jesse’s ass and make his partner’s hips jolt.

                “Keep talking and you will,” he replied before returning to work. He pressed his face in more deeply; Jesse could feel the tip of Hanzo’s nose folding against his skin. Heavy, damp breaths were chased by more tongue; every languid sigh Jesse let go seemed relax him that much more for Hanzo to exploit. It was hard to keep his mind on track enough to string words together, but Jesse did his damnedest to try if it was going to get him more.

                “Fuck me with your tongue,” Jesse hissed and rolled his hips back into it. “I know you’re hungry for me.”

                Hanzo answered with a pointed nudge, making Jesse mewl into the pillow he was holding and put a deep arch in the small of his back.

                “Let me rut,” he whined, but one of Hanzo’s hands slid up his back, already a little damp in the valley of his spine and combed back down with fingernails to shift Jesse’s focus. His burgeoning tension eased and rounded out the thrum in his hips to a more manageable ember. As Hanzo kept up, twisting each silky pass in some new way, Jesse’s thighs parted further, pleading for more even as he seemed to pool in place on the mattress. All he could manage was an occasional call of Hanzo’s name or a half-bitten _fuck me_ until Hanzo finally managed to nudge him open just a shade and added a low hum in for flourish, earning a hearty moan.

                “Ready for more?” Hanzo asked as he backed off, grit raking his tone from all his effort. He plucked up the lube and began coating his fingers. Jesse rolled onto his back, lifting and holding up both legs to give Hanzo the room he needed to sit up aside him and reposition his legs. The right foot kicked compulsively over Hanzo’s left shoulder where it draped at the knee as Hanzo reasserted himself with a finger. “Just what you need after a long day, hm? Stuffing yourself nice and full to take all that stress away?”

                “Yes,” Jesse huffed. He opened his eyes enough to see Hanzo’s mouth and goatee were still a bit slick from all his work and bucked at nothing in midair. “Please, Hanzo.”

                “In time, darling. No rush. You’re so handsome splayed out in every direction.”

                While flexing and pressing his finger inside, Hanzo took to leaving marks on the inside of Jesse’s leg that draped prone on his shoulder. Jesse began leveraging himself into Hanzo’s touch using his left leg, foot flat on the mattress and knee bent, so he took that as a cue to add a second finger. If Jesse was trying to thank Hanzo, he didn’t articulate it very well in a mushy blend of guttural half-words. With Jesse’s thighs so lasciviously parted, his scars were on total display, pulling anew at Hanzo’s recently-twisted heartstrings.

                “Jesse,” he said to get his partner’s attention. He used his free hand to pet down Jesse’s thigh to his hip and glanced down in suggestion. “May I—”

                “Do it,” Jesse barked and tipped his head back unexpectedly, jaw silently gibbering and toes pulling taut; Hanzo had hit just right. “Yes, sugar, much as you want. Ain’t no part of me you can’t have.”

                Suddenly, Hanzo couldn’t pull a full breath for the overwhelming _feeling_ in his gut. It took a moment to find the wherewithal to speak again, and when he did, he couldn’t quite sell his previous, poised confidence.

                “Let’s fill you up, then, and I’ll take what I want.”

                The plug had rolled off out of reach without Hanzo’s noticing, but Jesse slapped a hand over it and passed it off with a wink. Hanzo took it but held Jesse’s hand a moment longer and leant to kiss the tips of his fingers before letting him go. He made short work, for Jesse’s sanity, of readying the toy and began sinking it inside with added little twists that made Jesse’s thighs quiver. Once it was seated, Hanzo let that go for a moment so he could do what _he_ wanted, since he wouldn’t be getting off tonight. He wouldn’t have to keep Jesse hung up for long.

                Sadly, he could only reach the one side since he was holding Jesse’s leg up, but he bent over and added more bites higher up Jesse’s thigh, leaving reddened, warm splotches with just a hint of teeth marks up to his true target. When he arrived at the scar itself, however, he kept it to one simple but long and reverent kiss. His lube-slick hand had traveled up Jesse’s torso for leverage and he jumped a bit in surprise when it was captured in a tight fist. He glanced up, worried that maybe Jesse wasn’t as ready as he thought he was, and was met with dish-sized, plaintive eyes just visible past Jesse’s heaving chest. They hovered there for a long beat in silence; with one mind, Jesse let go in the same second Hanzo pulled away. The very next second, a click cut the tension as Hanzo turned the toy on.

                Jesse arched and _wailed_.

                Initially, Hanzo had, of course, mourned the loss of his ability to be turned on by sight alone, but right now, he couldn’t be gladder for it, because it let him enjoy the whole of Jesse in the moment completely uninhibited by any needy biological distraction. He’d have missed all the little things he was soaking up: the immediate sprout of sweaty sheen in the hollow of Jesse’s neck; how his right arm swayed this way and that at the bent elbow as he pulled at his own hair; the feel of the tender skin where Hanzo still lightly touched Jesse’s scar quivered under his fingers.

                _“Utsukushii,_ ” he huffed to himself, unheard by Jesse.

                The moment of reverie had to be abandoned; Hanzo could tell Jesse’s continued bleats were desperate almost to the point of pained. He wrapped his slickened hand around Jesse’s weeping cock and stroked hard in hope of matching the peaked sensation. Within a few harried breaths, Jesse came all over himself with a cry that petered off unevenly, urged on by the continuing sensation caused by the plug humming inside.

                “Little longer,” Jesse huffed when Hanzo set to turn it off and pull it free. His come-dotted hips shifted back and forth in desperate, short bursts to wring out the last of what he wanted, but upon a particularly creaking whine, Hanzo put it to an end for Jesse’s own good. All Hanzo had ability to get to was tissues on the nightstand, but he made do with that to at least make sure Jesse’s torso didn’t grow uncomfortably sticky. Jesse could hardly move and knew it wouldn’t be long before he was down for the count. He got his shaky fingers around Hanzo’s hand and brought it to his lips. “You done just as you said.”

                “Better, then?” Hanzo replied with a toothy, charming smile that only made the afterglow in Jesse’s heart flare up in momentary, all-consuming potency. He reached to cup Hanzo’s jaw.

                “Like I’m brand-new. Come down here and let me at you. I missed that face.”

                Their post-coital makeout session didn’t last terribly long; Jesse’s eyes drooped in exhaustion every time they broke apart and his coordination rapidly grew messy.

                “Bed, you,” Hanzo finally said, laughing as Jesse completely missed and smushed his eye.

                “No, I ain’t had enough of you,” Jesse mumbled, but rallied himself enough to sit up and pull back the sheets while Hanzo fully undressed. A few minutes apart was too much; soon as they were under covers, they cocooned around each other, Jesse nudging Hanzo’s feet over with his own to tangle them together properly, limited mobility be damned.

                “Thank you,” Jesse whispered. He hadn’t done that yet, even if his words were coming slurred.

                “Of course. It’ll always be here if you need it again.”

                Jesse managed a slow nod, but that appeared to be his last, best effort, as his eyes slid shut and didn’t even flutter in attempt to open again. That left Hanzo by himself, silently tracing every beloved shape in his partner’s face as it relaxed in deepening slumber. He carefully slid up to plant his lips against Jesse’s slackened brow and pulled together his courage to mouth the word _daisuki_ against his skin. When Jesse didn’t stir, Hanzo contented himself by remaining there, occasionally repeating the word to himself until he, too, dropped off from exhaustion.

 

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Cait's artist submission for this chapter: heartbroken Foolish Teen Jesse!

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	5. Chapter 5

                Hanzo couldn’t have asked for a happier time than the subsequent few weeks after meeting the Amaris for dinner. With Jesse relieved of his biggest mental restraint, he’d resumed his usual chipper attitude with gusto and seemed all the more joyful in Hanzo’s eyes. Their time spent together, whether at La Tumba, out and about in Tucson, or enveloped in bed, lit up Hanzo’s attitude for days afterward. Genji even made a passing half-snarky, half-genuinely-shocked comment that Hanzo was downright _sunny_ one afternoon in the studio.

                Despite all that time together, Hanzo had yet to return to Jesse’s home again, and almost two months after the first, wonderful weekend there, they made plans for Hanzo to stay the entire week. All the first day at the ranch, he had felt…off. Inexplicably displaced from himself. His movements felt sluggish and he dropped a few small items; worry nagged at the back of his mind. Even Deadeye was clingier than usual, offering insistent nuzzles while Hanzo sat on the sofa and even had a little incident of _growling_ at Jesse when he’d flopped down to sit next to him. He chalked it all up to being tired and did his best to focus on enjoying his time with his boyfriend.

                When he jolted awake at 4am with a gasp, however, the concern he’d tried to deny struck down his hubris with devastating force. Instantly, he knew how bad it was. He’d had an episode of his intermittent chronic pain early last year that had put him down for a couple days, but this was the worst he’d had since before leaving Japan. White-hot pain lanced in silent waves between his feet and his hips. Burgeoning nausea was urged on by the realization of what he _hadn’t_ deigned to include in his medication bag. He hadn’t needed his opiates in _so_ long. Why couldn’t he be allowed a more permanent peace?

                Hanzo’s soft wheeze hadn’t stirred Jesse, so he weighed the cost-benefit of disturbing his still-sleeping partner, since he would probably be up in a half an hour anyway to start his daily routine. That answer came involuntarily when Jesse shifted in bed, nudging Hanzo’s legs and setting off a pinched cry he couldn’t keep to himself. Jesse woke in an instant, head scanning back and forth in alarm.

                “Jesse, _please,_ ” Hanzo spat and grabbed Jesse’s arm in a stranglehold to still him. The jostling was _excruciating_.

                “Hanzo? Hanzo, baby, what’s—”

                Jesse had rolled over and aimed to lean across his partner’s body, but Hanzo’s desperate and insistent hand transferred to Jesse’s chest and pushed _hard_ to keep him off. The effort, of course, made the whole of Hanzo’s body move, setting off sporadic but brutal spikes of pain in contrast to the patchy dead zones. In and around his knee felt only the pressure of the blanket atop him, but a bit of his calf just beneath might as well have been pulled away from the bone with pliers. His jaw fell open and trembled as it hung there, but he made no sound.

                “Don’t,” Hanzo eventually bit. He was taking long conscious and pained breaths. “Don’t touch. Don’t move.”

                Fear clamped over Jesse’s throat. He’d never seen Hanzo so stricken; he’d seen Hanzo in varying amounts pain, like the first time they’d slept together and several times since when his legs would bother him, but this was beyond any of that. Hanzo had broken out in a heavy sweat and his eyes wouldn’t focus. That _grip_ on his arm when Jesse had woken up still made itself known in a small throb even though Hanzo had relinquished it. Despite it all, Hanzo did seem pretty calm, and that was the _only_ reason Jesse hadn’t given himself over to the complete fear coiled in his chest, waiting for a moment’s weakness to strike.

                “Tell me what’s wrong,” Jesse tried again, and Hanzo commended him for doing his very best not to sound panicked, though his eyes clearly telegraphed it just under the surface. Though Hanzo wanted to answer, it was difficult for him to concentrate and he didn’t answer right away as another surge of pain made his eyes flutter. “Do I need to call an ambulance?” Jesse offered, though the timbre of his voice shook a little. “We’re forty-five minutes from—”

                “No. Call Genji. There’s nothing an EMT can do that my brother cannot do faster,” Hanzo murmured. No doubt he was going to _hear it_ from Genji, too, for leaving his most potent painkillers behind, but as another wicked lick of fire brutally seared up his legs, he conceded he just didn’t have any other choice and would have to plan for that argument later.

                “Hanzo—”

                Hanzo did _not_ have time for this; his hand curled on Jesse’s bare chest to lightly dig his fingernails in.

                “Trust me. _Call. Genji._ ”

                One of Jesse’s hands carefully covered Hanzo’s on his chest.

                “Okay, yeah, I will right now. What…what do I tell him?”

                “That I am having an episode and need the opiates.”

                Jesse didn’t need to have a huge medical background to understand the necessity of _opiates_.

                “A-alright. Can…can I—”

                Hanzo took a deep breath and forced himself to swallow down his growing, pain-driven irritation. He turned his hand around to take Jesse properly by the hand in a grip so tight, he could see Jesse wince and balk in reaction.

                “There is _nothing_ you can do, Jesse, but make that phone call.”

                At last, it had happened. Hanzo’s circumstances had caught up with him, and the ugliest parts of his existence were laid bare to Jesse. This was supposed to be a week of respite and intimacy. Now, he was going to have to spend probably half of it doped up and unintelligible. His brother would _hover_ and _impose_ himself as he managed the medication comedown that Hanzo wouldn’t be able to do himself. Rage and anguish and despondency bore down over him in bed as Jesse left his field of vision to do as asked. Nothing over the next several days would be _his_ to do or even decide, and when this happened, he never _hated_ everyone and everything more.

                Jesse’s expression grew desperate, but he chose to simply nod and carefully rolled out of bed before snatching up his cell phone from the nightstand to call Genji. To give Hanzo some peace as well as relieve a little of his tension, Jesse left the bedroom for his living room to pace while he auto-dialed the number Hanzo had given him months ago for emergencies.

                “The fuck?” came a gritty, weak voice on the other end after four upsettlingly-long rings.

                “Genji, it’s me, it’s Jesse.”

                “What’s wrong with Hanzo?” Genji immediately replied. All trace of his sleepiness had evaporated.

                “I-I don’t know, he says…he’s having an episode? I don’t know what that means. He told me not to call an ambulance, and I don’t fuckin’ know if I should believe him or not.”

                A long, seething string of cursing in Japanese could be heard, though Genji had clearly taken the phone away from his face.

                “He didn’t bring his opioids, did he? _Stupid_ motherfucker. _How_ many fucking times…I’ll be there in a half-hour. You don’t have to call 911. I know about where you are, but text me your address.”

                “Genji, I’m forty miles—”

                “ _Thirty. Minutes._ Keep him talking. Don’t touch his legs, and don’t move him. And don’t try to tell him it’ll be okay if you want to keep your face where it is.”

                “Genji, I don’t understand _any_ of this,” Jesse confessed, voice breaking. “What’s wrong with him?”

                A heavy sigh broke over the phone. Despite everything, Genji had to admit feeling pretty bad for McCree to suddenly have this dumped in his lap. Genji knew that frigid sense of fear and overwhelming, unexpected responsibility _intimately_ well.

                “Since his spinal cord _kind of_ works, sometimes it…I don’t remember the medically-correct terminology, but sometimes the signals get fucked up and it causes chronic pain. Most times it’s just aching and it slows him down. More rarely, it’ll keep him in bed for a day. This…if he’s not toughing it out until a more reasonable hour on his usual pain scrips, it’s bad. He hasn’t had it like this in a few years.”

                “I don’t think I ever seen anybody so…”

                “You haven’t. You’ve never felt it yourself, and I hope you never do. Maybe he’ll pull his punches for _you_ , but…you need to be aware, McCree; he can be a dick, and not in a cute way. Belligerent. Vicious. He’s said shit to me in pain and high as a kite he doesn’t remember that made me cry like a baby. I am _not_ overexaggerating. He’s gonna backtalk, and you’re gonna have to put your fucking foot down on him, and he _might_ apologize later.”

                “I understand.”

                “No, you fucking don’t, but we’ll cross that bridge when it happens. I got my keys, so I have to hang up. Just…care, but don’t even _suggest_ coddling him. And don’t take his shit for a second if he tries to take it out on you. Once I get there, I’ll let him light into me as much as he feels like instead of you.”

                “That…don’t seem fair.”

                “Nothing’s been fucking _fair_ since 2012. I’ll be there soon.”         

                Genji hung up, and Jesse hadn’t felt so profoundly powerless since…the robbery when he was eighteen. He swallowed down as much of it as he could and returned to Hanzo. He was very still in bed; to a casual glance, he might even be sleeping, but his fist holding a comforter in rough ball told a different story. Jesse stood at the side of the bed, but decided not to sit since just moving around in bed earlier seemed to leave Hanzo incapacitated with pain.

                “I suppose he warned you about me,” Hanzo said, voice strained and breathy.

                “Genji? Yeah, he might’ve said you get a little mouthy,” Jesse replied as neutrally as he could. “He says he’ll be here in a half-hour. I don’t much like his math in calculating that, but it’s not like I can stop him.”

                “He’ll take his bike, I guarantee it. Hypocritical fuck. And then the _lecture_ once he arrives.”

                “That you didn’t bring those meds with you?”

                “Yes. He’ll carry on about how I didn’t plan down to the last minutia of possibility.”

                “He’s just worried, Han. Let him have it.”

                Jesse saw Hanzo’s face curl in a sneer.

                “You’re all _worried,_ ” Hanzo drawled. “There’s nothing to _worry_ about. Feed me fentanyl and go about as you please.”

                Wow, Genji had not been kidding. The forewarning had been a blessing; walking into a conversation expecting it made it much easier for Jesse to dodge the attempted swipes as they came. Hanzo’s self-awareness about his attitude at the outset seemed to have vanished from him mind, but then again, he was likely getting by moment to moment and subject to knee-jerk aggression at what would be in normal circumstances mild irritations.

                “Sweetheart, I can’t just—”

                “You will. You should. There is nothing else to be done.”

                “Hanzo, _stop._ ”

                “You have _no idea_ —” Hanzo seethed.

                “No, I don’t,” Jesse cut in. “But I ain’t gonna let you pull this shit off anyway. I might have to slip out for a couple hours, but I’m gonna be here all fucking day as much as I can because I give a shit and want to keep you close and comfortable as I can. Ain’t nothin’ you can try tongue-lashin’ me with that’s gonna stop me, so you might as well fuckin’ _can it_ and let me do whatever it is you need. You can’t control what’s happening any better by gettin’ fuckin’ mad at the people trying to help you recover. Less so, matter of fact.”

                To think, his therapist’s words in dealing with his own anger would come to him so easily when he wasn’t even thinking about it. Inwardly, he felt pretty proud of himself. It seemed to work, because Hanzo didn’t speak again and his next breath came with a slighty sodden undertone that made Jesse feel like his heart was going to crumble in his chest.

                “You’re hurtin’, sugar, I know. All I want to do is care,” Jesse added softly.

                “This was supposed to be a _good_ week,” Hanzo said wetly.

                “It still can be. Maybe not as much, but still good. You just gotta meet me halfway, baby. Shit, I’ll settle for a quarter, I can make up the rest.”

                Hanzo’s eyes slipped shut. This effortlessly generous and fucking empathic bastard.

                “Come here,” Hanzo said. Jesse took a slow seat at the edge of the bed and took Hanzo’s offered hand to kiss. “I’m sorry.”

                “It’s fine, promise. Genji won’t be long, so I’m gonna take a quick shower and get dressed, okay?”

                Hanzo’s expression creased with reticence and emotion. Now that he didn’t have his anger to focus and thrust aggressively away from himself, everything seemed to hurt more and his words came clipped in short bursts.

                “Wait.”

                “Uh—of course, Han. What is it?”

                “Stay. Just a few minutes.”

                Jesse returned a slow nod as he watched Hanzo’s eyes dart in avoidance this way and that.

                “And…if you could…my hair,” Hanzo added in vulnerable, broken suggestion.

                Jesse reached over to card Hanzo’s undercut with tender fingers and Hanzo relaxed a little under the touch, even as his pain was still very evident.

                “Long as you want. Genji’s just gonna have to deal with the fact you and I sleep together in just our goddamn underwear,” Jesse replied with a wink.

                A weak smile spread across Hanzo’s paled face.

                Twenty minutes later, both boys could hear a distant but oncoming high-pitched engine from outside, unmistakable to both of them as a motorcycle engine. Jesse was gracious enough to throw a pair of sweatpants on to meet Genji at the door. Dawn had not yet arrived, so Jesse flipped the porch light on as he stepped outside. Genji was already parked and removing his helmet with obvious hurry and stress. He stalked up to Jesse and, while Genji gave his shirtlessness a noticeable up-and-down, made no comment.

                “How is he?”

                “Might be worse. I’m talkin’ _to_ him, but he ain’t answering much.”

                “Son of a bitch.”

                Jesse opened the door for him and pointed the way through the living room and on to his bedroom.

                “Hanzo,” Genji opened, all professionalism in his tone, but gingerly reached to take his pulse.

                “You’re here,” Hanzo rasped. His condition had deteriorated and he could hardly think straight anymore. Every minute since waking had been deepening pain.

                “I am. I brought everything. Which one do you need?”

                “The…the fentanyl,” Hanzo replied, and Jesse frowned deep to hear him sound so incredibly defeated. Jesse had never heard of it before today, which only added to the sympathetic knot in his gut.

                “Okay,” Genji said, utterly devoid of any reaction. He set aside his backpack to open it and dug out yet another ziploc bag like the others Hanzo brought along for the ranch trip. In it was a box from which Genji wrested a thin stick, kind of like a wrapped sucker, and after removing the paper covering it, gave to Hanzo, who took it in his teeth and under his tongue with a grimace.

                “Should we stay?” Jesse asked, and Hanzo minutely shook his head.

                “I agree. It shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes to kick in, and after that…you won’t be having a conversation with him for a _while_ ,” Genji said.

                “Then make yourself at home, Genji. I’m gonna clean up quick and I’ll make breakfast.”

                His work done, Genji offered the bag of medications he brought to Jesse, since he wasn’t sure where to put them, and left the room. Jesse lingered a beat longer and leant over the bed to kiss Hanzo’s damp brow.

                “I’m so sorry,” Hanzo mumbled past the sucker aside in his teeth.

                “You don’t ever have to be. Rest, beautiful,” Jesse replied gently.

                Once showered and dressed – Jesse didn’t bother with his more durable work clothes and kept it to an old t-shirt and jeans – he found Genji laid out on his sofa napping. Good; Genji didn’t seem like the type to voluntarily wake before at least eleven unless something important demanded it of him. Deadeye wandered in, enticed by Jesse’s footsteps, and took notice of the stranger on the sofa. The dog leant in cautiously for an investigative sniff and, clearly having found something to his satisfaction, gave the tips of Genji’s fingers a lick hello. Genji’s fingers twitched and he let out a low mumble. A tiny smiles crept across Jesse’s face at the scene and snuck out the front door to make for the barn; all he’d managed yet this morning was just a text to Diego saying he wasn’t going to be out right away. It was barely half-past five, but normally he’d have made it out to start the day by now.

                “Diego,” Jesse sighed as he found him prepping feed for the herd.

                “McCree, everything okay?” Diego asked seriously as he dusted his hands.

                “It’s Hanzo, he…” Jesse didn’t know _how_ to describe it. “He ain’t well. His brother had to come out.”

                “I heard the engine come in. Me and half the county.”

                “I-I’m—”

                “Joking, Jesse,” Diego reassured, leaning on the first name to add emphasis. “If you want to stay in, don’t worry about it.”

                “Diego, I’ve been doin’ that a _lot_ lately.”

                “You have. You think I’m holding that against you?”

                “It’s my _job_.”

                “How many mornings did Rick come out here with you and me before he retired? In your recollection?”

                “I-I…some of ‘em?”

                Diego snickered.

                “No need to be generous, he ain’t listening. Once a month, if that. You’re _here_ on days you don’t work an ounce more than Rick was in his last five years. You got a life to live, kid. Go have it. That’s what _I’m_ here for. If anything comes up, you’re nearby, no problem. I know you’re not about to abdicate on us. We all do. If anything, Jesse, it’s a relief you aren’t out here every day stressing over every tiny thing. It ain’t good for your _or_ my blood pressure.”

                “I just want this to work,” Jesse confessed.

                “It _is_ working. It _has_ been for three years. You can let autopilot run a _little._ ”

                “Yeah, I…I guess. I don’t mean to crawl up your ass, though.”

                “I know, I know, it’s fine,” Diego replied, patting Jesse on the shoulder with a smile. “I hope Hanzo feels better. If you need someone to run into town, text me and I’ll see it gets done.”

                “Thanks, Diego.”

                “Of course.”

                Reassured, Jesse made his way back to the house and began preparing breakfast as quietly as possible so as not to disturb Genji. He got away with it for twenty or so minutes before he saw his fluffy, green hair shift sluggishly as he sat up.

                “Hey there. I got a spare room if you’re still tired,” Jesse offered.

                “Nah, thanks. Is that bacon?” Genji replied as he shuffled up to lean over the counter.

                Jesse smirked a little despite himself and Genji’s presumption.

                “Some of it might even be for you.”

                “Cool.”

                Neither one knew what to say beyond that, so they grew mutually quiet as Jesse continued working. Genji lingered where he was, staring but not really watching Jesse. This was…weird. He was in his brother’s boyfriend’s house, the sun was only just starting to come up, and he was cooking for him. _Very_ weird.

                “Thanks for comin’ out, Genji,” Jesse broke the silence, but didn’t look up from what he was doing. He wasn’t quite brave enough for that.

                “No problem. I mean…this is…”

                Jesse turned to see consternation written on Genji’s face.

                “What?”

                “This is what I have to do,” he finished hesitantly. “It’s what my life has to be. He _needs_ someone to have his back. That can drop _everything_ and show up the second he needs it. Even if Hanzo wasn’t such a dickhead sometimes, it would still have to happen. I don’t think that’d even make it much easier. Well, _now_ it wouldn’t make much difference.”

                “Hanzo’s alluded to things being better than they used to be,” Jesse agreed. “But he doesn’t talk about it a lot.”

                “None of us do. None meaning me, him, _or_ dad.”

                “So I heard.”

                “Yeah that’s…” Genji drifted off in a sigh. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. They’re just stupid. And the accident fucked a lot up.”

                “I get family trauma, believe me. I don’t know if Hanzo’s told you, but my parents are gone. I was raised in the foster system.”

                “O-oh shit. No, he didn’t. I was looking at the pictures before I crashed on the couch, and I saw…”

                “Yep, that’s me with my mom and dad,” Jesse confirmed, nodding towards an old portrait aside the piano, paired with another photo of him, Ana, and Fareeha taken years later. “And my foster family on the left.”

                Genji turned back to stare at the portrait off on the far end of the room. Jesse had to be pretty tough to pull through something like that and get where he was. He knew loss and absence. Respect sprung up inside him and left him chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

                “Jesse,” Genji began, surprising himself by using his first name. As he glanced back over, he could see Jesse’s even greater shock at the unexpected familiarity. “I need you to understand that…what I said about this being my life and what I _have_ to do is because I know I’m the only person Hanzo _knows_ he’ll have the rest of his life.”

                The enormity of what Genji was attempting to articulate was not lost on Jesse, because his eyes went wide and he turned down the stove so he could abandon his hashbrowns for a moment and meet Genji directly across the counter, arms crossed.

                “Go on,” Jesse replied quietly. It took Genji a moment to follow through; Jesse’s intensity watching him was more than a little intimidating. He looked much like he had the evening they’d confronted each other at La Tumba.

                “You…you get it, right? Today, helping Hanzo like we have…this is it. I mean, it’s not bad all the time, of course, but when it is, it’s _bad._ And that’s…that’s not anybody’s _fault,_ it just is. And…he’s thirty-four, this…this is gonna be the healthiest he ever _will_ be. He’ll hit forty, fifty, sixty and…and more, I _hope._ And what you’re seeing today won’t improve.”

                Jesse’s eyes narrowed.

                “You’re worried about me ghosting on him.”

                Genji hung his head and let out a stressed sigh.

                “I _have_ to.”

                That was fair. If Jesse didn’t have good intentions, Genji would be left to clean up the mess. He recognized his importance in Hanzo’s life and was doing his level best to fulfill it as a dutiful younger brother. Jesse could respect all of that, especially since Genji was being much more rational and cooperative about it compared to their argument at the bar months earlier. Still, Jesse hesitated to speak his complete feelings, since he hadn’t… _Hanzo_ hadn’t even heard them yet.

                “Genji, there ain’t nothing I won’t do for your brother. Nothin’. I told you before this is where I wanna be. That ain’t changed, and…it ain’t going to. Don’t treat me like I’m temporary, because I’m not.”

                Genji grew frustrated, scratching at the top of his head and combing his lower set of teeth across his upper lip as he tried to find the words he wanted.

                “Then I’m not saying this right. I…I don’t think you are. I just…I _need_ you to understand this is hard. I love my brother…more than _anything_ , Jesse, and I’ve had days where that wasn’t enough to keep him _or_ me afloat. I’m trying to tell you that everything you feel and give him, some days…just…he’ll get better, but it won’t be enough in that moment, and _you_ have the choice to leave. You will _always_ have that choice.”

                Jesse regarded the floor sternly, and each moment he did, his frown grew deeper and his eyes more emotional. At length, he unfolded his arms and leant onto his hands on the counter to be almost face-to-face with Genji.

                “So I got a choice. So do you. Cite all the familial duty you want, you could still walk away anytime you wanted and if you were a sociopath who didn’t give a shit about guilt, you’d get off scot free. Family…ain’t no guarantee, Genji, I know that better than _anybody._ The family I got, I made. The family _you_ got, you made. You and your brother both have told me how fuckin’ hard it was after he got hurt to keep it together. _That’s_ what I mean about it bein’ no guarantee. You _made_ that. I…I’m _making_ this. You got yours, I got mine, and…and maybe, it can be _ours_ , someday. Shared.”

                “Everything, good and bad?” Genji reminded him.

                “It’s all good as long as someone’s got your back. It took me a long time to understand that. I ain’t here to take Hanzo. I’m here to add _me._ ”

                Genji didn’t know how to handle that. He glanced up to meet Jesse’s equally-emotional eyes before abandoning him and pace the living room for his sanity. Jesse let him go; he imagined it was probably more than a little difficult to just up and embrace trusting another human being with the most important person in his life.

                “You…did well, having this come up so suddenly for you without preparation,” Genji offered.

                “I ain’t gonna lie to you, that was scary as _fuck_. And Hanzo _did_ try giving me attitude, and I shut him down, but I did all that ‘cause I had your help, and don’t you think I’ll forget it,” Jesse explained as he walked out to the living room to join Genji. “Look. You…you got a shitload of trauma attached to takin’ care of Hanzo.”

                “That isn’t ever going to stop me,” Genji immediately countered defensively, and Jesse held up his hands in gesture to slow down.

                “I know it won’t. It ain’t my point, either. I’m just sayin’, the whole bit about _adding myself_ and _sharing_ , I mean that. I’m here to help _you_ , too. I don’t have all the… _memories_ attached to Hanzo’s health. I know I got a lot to learn, but I _will_ , and you can…y’know… _relax_ a little. It doesn’t have to be as much of your life anymore. This ain’t about replacing you,” Jesse added hastily, clearly expecting Genji to blow up in reaction. “Just…helping.”

                To Genji’s credit and Jesse’s overwhelming relief, Genji didn’t explode in reaction. He stared out the window at the low, dark-purple line of dawn off the mountains’ silhouette.

                “I’d like that,” he admitted almost inaudibly. “Don’t…don’t tell Hanzo that. He’ll think I’m bitter, and I’m _not._ I’m grateful every day I just get to fucking _talk_ to him.”

                Jesse came up with the kind of hesitation he normally reserved for approaching rattlesnakes and put a grounding hand to Genji’s arm.

                “Genji, he already _knows_ that. Why do you think he worries so much about taking up your time?”

                “That isn’t _all_ it’s about, I fucking promise you that,” Genji replied testily. He pinched the bridge of his nose; he was so damn tired and stressed out and… _aware_ of what this whole conversation meant about his brother. He shouldn’t be feeling so… _left behind._ “He’s _never_ wanted to own up to the most difficult realities of his injury. Dad and I had to do _so_ much just to convince Hanzo to _try._ ”

                “You see what I mean about trauma,” Jesse suggested, adding in a tiny squeeze where his hand still remained.

                “Yeah,” Genji sighed, his shoulders slackened with exhaustion. “It hasn’t _all_ been terrible, y’know. We’re way closer now than even when we were kids. I-I want to keep it that way.”

                “You will,” Jesse replied firmly. “I told Hanzo I wouldn’t ruin anything just to keep him.”

                They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Genji reached up to hold Jesse’s arm between them tight; Jesse took the cue with a touched little sigh and pulled Genji in for a real hug. Surprising, certainly, but Genji took to it sooner than he normally would if it wasn’t six-thirty fucking AM and he hadn’t been awoken by near-panic.

                “Okay,” Genji breathed, more to soothe himself than anything directed at Jesse as they parted.

                “Come on, let’s eat,” Jesse said, clapping Genji on the back as he led him back into the kitchen.

~

                Hanzo stirred to soupy consciousness with a strained sigh. The fentanyl was definitely in effect; he still hurt, but it wasn’t existentially-agonizing. In truth, what he _really_ hated about episodes like these wasn’t necessarily the pain first and foremost: it was treating it. The side effects ran him almost as ragged as the pain did. He couldn’t _do_ anything, oftentimes he couldn’t even _concentrate._ Such was the case now as he tried to sort the quiet rumbling nearby into the proper words and individual voices he knew were supposed to be there.

                “…so that’s the day-to-day meds. I hope it makes more sense now.”

                “It does, yeah. I know he’s tryin’ not to scare me, but the _not knowing_ is what makes it the worst.”

                “I get that. So what he’s on right now—wait, I think he’s up.”

                “Oh, shit. Hanzo, sugar, you here?”

                “Jesse?” Hanzo slurred. _There_ it was. The name. He knew it was in his head somewhere. “What time is it?”

                “That’s me, yep,” Jesse replied warmly. He and Genji leant into Hanzo’s field of vision. “It’s just after eleven. Genji’s walkin’ me through all your scrips.”

                “How are you feeling?” Genji asked.

                “Terrible,” Hanzo replied with vividly-illustrative exasperation. “But at least it doesn’t feel like my entire nervous system is exposed to the air anymore.” The more potent drugs tended to remove Hanzo’s already-thin filter for his most acerbic humor.

                “I guess that’s something,” Jesse sighed as he reached over to pet Hanzo’s forehead.

                “Genji, you’re still here?” Hanzo asked.

                “Of course. Jesse needs to know what to do over the next couple days.”

                Hanzo’s face pulled in a repentant frown.

                “I…I really didn’t think I would need anything.”

                “It’s been a while since this happened. I can’t hold it against you, even if it means waking me up at four when I’d gone to bed at two in the fucking morning.”

                “Video games?” Hanzo asked, perking an eyebrow.

                “No,” Genji lied very unconvincingly, to which Hanzo gave a knowing little hum of amusement.

                Soft _boofs_ and scratches at the door interrupted them, drawing Jesse’s attention in particular, as he made a couple shooing noises.

                “Goddamn it, Deadeye…he’s heard your voice. We had to close the door, he kept tryin’ to come in and get on the bed. He knows something’s up.”

                “And you fucking _stopped_ him?” Hanzo replied, weak but outraged.

                “Sweetheart—”

                “Let him in.”

                When Jesse tried to argue, Hanzo shook his head, even as it made his head swim and his low-tide nausea surge in his chest.

                “ _Let him in._ I’m going to be stuck here for a couple days, Jesse, and unless _you_ are willing to curl up on the pillow and keep me company for hours on end…”

                “Maybe I could,” Jesse mumbled, all petulant contrarianism as he stepped away to open the door. Deadeye leapt in, but Jesse caught him by the middle to pick him up and showed him Hanzo. “See? He’s fine, buddy.” Still Deadeye wiggled insistently, so Jesse very hesitantly put his feet on the bed but held him tight.

                “Hello, sweet one,” Hanzo rasped and held up a hand for a sniff. Deadeye grew calm, so Jesse let him go inch by inch. Yesterday swam by Hanzo’s recollection; the way Deadeye had been so attentive and on-edge. “You knew before I did, didn’t you? Down.”

                Deadeye laid down just aside Hanzo’s torso and planted his head on his chest.

                “Shit, that _does_ explain a lot,” Jesse murmured, leaning over to pet Deadeye where he lay. “Sorry I doubted.”

                “Took thirty years, but you finally got your dog,” Genji teased.

                Jesse’s phone rang; he blew a kiss to Hanzo before stepping out of the room to answer. Genji took the opportunity to sit on the edge of the bed and began picking at and toying with the wrinkles in the comforter.

                “Jesse and I talked,” Genji said.

                Hanzo’s eyes narrowed and darted back and forth in opiate-muddled confusion. Did he hear that right?

                “Is it the legal heroin talking, or did you just use his first fucking _name?_ ” Hanzo asked.

                “Uh…I did.”

                “And…and Jesse said you were…” The profundity of the almost-forgotten passing comment struck belatedly, but hard. His hand pulled a fist on top of Deadeye’s fur.

                “There’s a lot to go over, Hanzo, and it’s time he knew the depth and breadth of the whole damn thing. I’m…it can’t just be me, now.”

                Hanzo was speechless; he gibbered briefly at the ceiling before pressing his slightly-numb lips together harder than he probably should. Try as he might, the bone-deep worry that Genji would never be _quite_ able to let go had always sat at the back of Hanzo’s mind since beginning his relationship with Jesse. This was both a massive relief and a strange kind of mourning to know that circumstances were changing.

                “Is that okay?” he asked at last, voice rough with emotion.

                “Yeah,” Genji replied with equal gravity. “I trust him. I…I _want_ his help.”

                But they were changing _together._

                Hanzo abruptly covered his face with a hand and let out a long, heaving breath. Genji stood again so he could reach for his brother’s arm without leaning too hard on the mattress and shift Hanzo in his place.

                “I will _always_ need you, _otoutou_ ,” Hanzo struggled from behind his hand.

                “And I will always be here,” Genji agreed at a husk.

                “Hey, everything okay?” Jesse asked worriedly from the doorway, making both Shimadas start.

                “Yes,” Genji said, trying to pull himself together. “Just…telling him what happened.”

                “Oh. Yeah, that.” Jesse replied lamely, at a loss for any other words. Genji shifted enough that Jesse could see both Hanzo and Genji in their seemingly-distraught states and rushed up. He gripped Genji’s shoulder in brief reassurance and looked at Hanzo. “Sweet pea, are you _crying_?”

                “Not quite,” Hanzo admitted tightly. His voice pitch had gone up. “That would hurt.”

                “Maybe we should let you rest,” Genji offered.

                Hanzo sniffed a little, but eventually nodded. He was in no condition to be thinking about anything this overwhelming.

                “I suppose. I think I may need a re-up.”

                “Switch to morphine?”

                “Yes. No more fentanyl. It’s the fucking worst. None of them will completely kill the pain anyway.”

                “All right, I’ll get it.”

                Genji headed for the en-suite and pulled the bag of meds he’d brought out of the drawer. Jesse followed and watched over his shoulder; once Genji found what he was looking for, he began explaining what it was to Jesse and how the dosing schedule should work. The entire process of bringing Hanzo down from a medication as potent as what he’d taken would take days, possibly even a couple weeks. Hanzo let their quiet discussion drone in the back of his head; just the little bit of conversation he’d mustered himself for had been tiring and he didn’t have it in him to concentrate anymore. It felt like only a few seconds had passed before Genji wrapped a gentle hand around Hanzo’s forearm to stir him.

                “ _Anija._ Can you sit up? Jesse, get around the other side and help him.”

                “Yep.”

                Jesse called for Deadeye, who looked up, and he took the dog by the collar to lead him back down to the floor for a moment. That done, he came around and offered a hand out to Hanzo on his left side. Hanzo took Jesse by the hand and stared up at his bright brown eyes for a moment of reprise before easing himself up. All down his legs, pain like firecrackers went off in the spaces his legs still felt, but he simply grit his teeth and only allowed himself a few muted grunts. Jesse helped pull him up and tried not to think too hard about how Hanzo didn’t let him go and held him with a grip so tight it shook even as Genji passed off a few tablets and then a glass of water he’d procured for his brother.

                “Hey,” Jesse said quietly to get Hanzo’s attention once he was finished. His eyes weren’t focusing correctly and his entire face was eerily slack with manufactured relaxation, but he did look over and brighten a hair at Jesse’s attention. “While you’re up.”

                Even high on painkillers, Hanzo still immediately understood the intent and pulled Jesse over by their joined hands to meet him in a soft kiss. Jesse could feel Hanzo’s flickering wince for the effort, but Hanzo was so clearly desperate for it he followed through anyway.

                “Get some rest, baby.”

                “I don’t want to,” Hanzo confessed. “I came here to be with you.”

                “You will. Take your time. I’ll be right here waitin’ for you. And Deadeye’ll keep an eye on you for me, too, yeah?”

                Hanzo conceded with a nod and let Jesse brace him as he slowly laid back down. As promised, Jesse whistled softly for Deadeye to pick him up and put him back on the bed. This time, Hanzo held up his arm as invitation and Deadeye nuzzled right in against him, nose almost touching Hanzo’s neck once he settled down.

                “When I go home tonight, I’ll stop by La Tumba and let them know you won’t be playing this week,” Genji said, and Hanzo agreed with a reluctant nod.

                “I can just text Gabe. Save you the trip,” Jesse offered.

                “No, it’s the more professional thing to do, but thanks, Jesse.”

                “No problem. Let’s…keep talkin’ out in the living room.”

                “Yes. Let me get everything you’ll use over the next few days.”

                Jesse and Genji left the room, leaving Hanzo to stew in his unpleasant, floaty feeling and all his still-remaining emotions. This was a minor disaster, but Jesse was taking everything in broad, easy stride. Genji and Jesse had also come to an accord and were cooperating, even _caring_ about each other – Jesse had had his arm around Genji’s shoulders as they had walked out. Deadeye lifted his head to whine very quietly and gave his chin a reassuring lick. The gentility broke his last, shaky bulwark against the slow and laden emotional hurricane inside and a couple tears escaped as Hanzo looked down at his companion. He hugged the dog closer and sniffed hard.

                “Well, it’s not _all_ terrible, is it, Deadeye?”

~

                Hanzo stayed in bed for two whole days and was only spending a small amount of time out in the living room even five days after the episode had begun. The pain was down to a minimum, but its effect combined with the side effects of the medications had left Hanzo weak and exhausted. Jesse had finally been able to sleep in bed with Hanzo the night before; up until then, he’d been sleeping on the couch. If Jesse was eager to be able to properly touch and hold Hanzo again, it was nothing compared to how Hanzo felt.

                Genji had only stayed the first day; Jesse had taken over his care completely after that. His nervousness and constant double-checking at the outset with Hanzo over _everything_ had been in turns irritating and endearing. Even when their exchanges over his care shifted to bickering, they always ended with an apology and reconciliation and every time, and Hanzo more desperately wanted to show his appreciation with something, _anything_ more than words.  Sex was off the table and would be for a while, but Jesse had been touched by Hanzo’s passionate kiss when he’d just been settling in to sleep that night. They’d spent a long while before falling asleep reacquainting themselves with each other, talking little in favor of warm hands and soft lips.

                When Jesse had woken at his usual time that morning, he lingered for a solid half-hour, just watching his partner sleep and occasionally petting his hair. He’d made a purchase in anticipation of Hanzo’s recovery early in the week and expected it to arrive today. On top of that, Jesse was feeling extra victorious for the fact Hanzo had eaten a full meal at dinner – his first in nearly a week. It seemed fitting, considering all the facts, to make a little celebration out of the day. If Hanzo was well enough to be eating again, a little indulgence in his sweet tooth was in order. So a little after six, he called a bakery in Tucson and asked to have a little something made for him to pick up that afternoon.

                “Okay, then, a six-inch round cake, vanilla with strawberry filling. Would you like anything written on top?” the woman asked.

                Jesse hadn’t considered the question and when confronted with it, thought he was going to fall off his horse as his mind came up with a knee-jerk idea.

                “I, uh, I…yeah, yeah I do. Um. Yeah,” he stuttered back, earning a very amused, raised eyebrow from Diego beside him.

                Hanzo woke in the late morning feeling the best he had yet – well enough to get himself out of bed and into his wheelchair (helpfully supplied by a visit from Genji) before dressing himself, albeit a bit more slowly than usual. He’d been busy fixing up his hair with dry shampoo when he heard a vehicle outside. Dropping his brush and spray in his lap, he wheeled over to the window and opened the blinds that looked out on the porch. There was a delivery, and a large one at that. Hanzo could hear Jesse’s boots on the wood outside.

                “Afternoon. Just set it up over here, thanks,” Jesse’s voice came dully through the window.

                Hanzo saw a box come out of the truck and decided to go have a look. He wheeled out into the living room, past the kitchen, and into the foyer to peek out the screen door. The fresh, dry air coming in from the desert lifted his spirits more than he would have expected.

                “What’s all this?” Hanzo asked, making Jesse actually lift off the floor for how thoroughly he jumped in surprise.

                “Hanzo! Jesus Christ,” Jesse sighed as he opened the door for his boyfriend. Hanzo wasn’t sure if it was just the shock, but Jesse seemed unnecessarily nervous. “I, uh, bought something.”

                “ _Clearly._ ”

                “Fuck off, you shit,” Jesse laughed and bent to kiss him. “You’re lookin’ bright and fresh as a spring day.”

                “Darling, I’m in sweatpants haven’t cleaned up since the bath _you_ helped me with day before yesterday.”

                “Never prettier, honest to god.”

                Looking at Jesse’s ebullience, Hanzo could tell he fucking _believed_ his own words and returned a touched, shy smile.

                “So what did you get?” Hanzo asked.

                “A present,” Jesse replied brightly. “Somethin’ I should’ve gotten after your first visit.”

                The two men had brought the box up on the porch and began cutting it open to reveal an outdoor wicker seat, clearly wide enough for two people.

                “I’d hoped you were still asleep. Wanted it to be a surprise. Now you’re feelin’ better, I figured you might wanna spend a little time outside. Of course, you ended up being quicker than me and up and about sooner than I expected. I was gonna make dinner and bring you out here for it. Will you pretend for me and give me a surprised gasp later?” Jesse asked with a little wink.

                Hanzo took Jesse’s hand and gave the knuckles a long kiss.

                “I _am_ surprised. I love it.”

                “Now, you gotta _promise_ me you’ll make room for me every once in a while. Can’t just be you and Deadeye all the time,” Jesse teased.

                “Hmm. I’ll consider it,” Hanzo shot back with mock-seriousness.

                Jesse blankly watched the men assemble the new furniture, thinking about the rest of what he had planned for the day. This was it, he could feel it. He’d picked the perfect day. And yet, he was still so fucking scared. But he could do this. He was ready.

                “You hungry, sugar? I ain’t made lunch yet.”

                “Please.”

                The rest of the afternoon, Hanzo sat out on the porch with Deadeye, eating up the fresh air and the opportunity to play his guitar for the first time in days. At three, Hanzo watched an oddly-sheepish Jesse leave in his car, muttering about needing to run into town for an errand and return almost two hours later with a box, clearly from a bakery, which he took inside in an embarrassed rush.

                “What’s that for?” Hanzo asked coyly when Jesse came back outside, red as a flower on a saguaro.

                “You,” Jesse replied with a defeated sigh. “Told you I was gonna do somethin’ special for dinner.”

                “I assure you, I am still very surprised and delighted,” Hanzo purred. Jesse laughed at himself and strode up to get a kiss, but when they parted, Jesse stared down at the cushion.

                “I had…a whole plan. And I…I still want to follow through. But I mean, you’re gonna be watchin’ me set up the whole time. Is that weird? I don’t want to make you sit inside while I fuck around over something stupid as fake-surprising you.”

                Hanzo _tsked_ at Jesse as he teased his beard.

                “That isn’t weird at all, Jesse. Do whatever you please. Even if it isn’t a surprise, you know I’ll appreciate the effort.”

                “Okay, sweetheart. I’m gonna start dinner, and then I’ll set up out here. Anything you need?”

                “Get me my book and I’ll be fine.”

                “Done.”

                For an hour, Hanzo read quietly wrapped up in a blanket – the sun would be down soon and since it was February, it would cool off quickly. He was so absorbed he didn’t notice that Jesse had come back outside at first, until he stood up on a chair he’d brought out with him. In his hand was a hammer, and a string of small lights in a loop hanging at his elbow.

                “Oh?” Hanzo said, offering a newly-flush Jesse a raised eyebrow.

                “Yeah,” Jesse replied shyly.

                Over the next thirty minutes, Hanzo watched Jesse come and go, slowly adding to the scene: the lights set in a criss-cross overhead, a small set of battery-powered faux candles set up on the banister enclosing the porch, and a single chrysanthemum – silk, of course, not real – Jesse put in Hanzo’s usual bun. After that came dinner, which Hanzo was floored to learn was yakisoba brought out on a tray for him.

                “Genji told me you like it with pork belly and to add bean sprouts. That’s how your mom made it, I guess?”

                “Yes,” Hanzo replied, numb with real and complete surprise.

                Jesse dropped it off next to him with a smile and disappeared again. When he returned, he was carrying the cake he’d not-so-secretly brought in earlier, but now it was on a plate. A stupid little smile was glued on his face and he’d taken his hat off. Almost too late, Hanzo realized that at some point since starting dinner, Jesse had changed clothes and was wearing the button-up he had on their first date. In that moment, he’d never, _ever_ looked more handsome, sweet, and genteel.

                “So—” Jesse opened with the tiniest, cutest stutter.

                “I love you,” Hanzo interrupted emphatically.

                Jesse froze in place and almost let the cake slip from his hands. _What?_ As if he’d heard the thought, Hanzo spoke again.

                “I fucking love you.”

                Still, Jesse couldn’t summon the cohesion to speak and his eyes remained staring down at the cake in his hands. But as Hanzo opened his mouth again, pure impulse drove Jesse to simply lower his hands to let Hanzo see what he was staring at: _I Love You_ , written in cursive gel icing on the top of the cake.

                “Y-you’re just…not gonna let me fuckin’ sneak one by you today, are you?” Jesse murmured, voice pitched high with emotion.

                “Oh my god,” Hanzo whispered. “Jesse—”

                “Oh for fuck’s sake, Hanzo,” Jesse replied with a wet laugh and abandoned the cake on the empty side of the lounge to slide up and kiss Hanzo long and deep. When they separated, Hanzo’s hand at his neck tightened a bit.

                “Tell me.”

                Jesse covered Hanzo’s hand holding him and kissed the angled bridge of his nose.

                “I love you.”

                Hanzo’s arms couldn’t get around Jesse’s chest fast enough and he shook a little for how tight he held Jesse.

                “I’ve been meaning to tell you for ages,” Jesse confessed. “Since…since you got here. Since dinner with Ana. Your first weekend out here. The first time we slept together. There ain’t been a second, Hanzo, a _second_ I ain’t thought about it. I love you so goddamn much.”

                “I-I’ve known for a while, too. I almost told you a few times, I just…”

                “Yeah, I know, sweetheart.”

                Hanzo let Jesse go and began to tear up. He stared at the roof of the porch, but that just meant he was looking at the lights Jesse had so sweetly put up for this entire evening and only made him more emotional. He ran the heels of his palms up his face to catch the initial few tears, but it wasn’t going to do him any good.

                “You…this whole week, Jesse, you’ve been so wonderful. And this…all for me. Just because I’m feeling better.”

                “I just wanted you to feel a little special. It ain’t too much?”

                “You’re the biggest fucking sap I’ve ever met and I _cannot_ get enough of it,” Hanzo replied, laughter breaking up a few, light sobs. “I have no idea how I’m going to match this.”

                “Just wake up next to me tomorrow morning,” Jesse replied thickly.

                “ _Jesse_ , you absolute bastard.”

                Hanzo pulled him over for another kiss, tangling the fingers of both hands deep in Jesse’s hair. He was a little too energetic about leaning in and made his back twinge enough to make him wince. Son of a _bitch_ , he wished Jesse could just take him inside and fuck the daylights out of him.

                “You okay?”

                “Yes,” Hanzo replied. “Just a little too wound up. Damn it.”

                Jesse picked up on the source of Hanzo’s frustration and bent to kiss his neck.

                “We’ll make it count when you’re back to one-hundred percent, Han. You’ll just have to settle for dinner,” he teased.

                “Hardly settling,” Hanzo replied earnestly. He was still crying a little and used the blanket to clear his face of the worst of the evidence. “I haven’t had yakisoba in ages. I can’t cook worth a damn. Go get your plate and come sit with me.”

                Jesse stood, taking the cake with him – he’d only intended to show Hanzo and speak his piece before they ate. He returned with a tray for himself and settled next to his partner, taking a minute to admire the silk flower he’d put in Hanzo’s hair before digging in.

                “I…was planning something a bit like this,” Hanzo confessed. “After this visit. The song I had you play piano for is done.”

                “Really?” Jesse asked, turning to stare.

                “Yes. I finished mixing it before coming out here. I had half a mind to bring it with me, but decided I would let it sit for the week and listen one more time after I got back in case I wanted to tweak it some more. Then I thought I would have you come by the studio and play it for you as a surprise and it would…speak _for_ me. I didn’t consider the simplicity in writing it on a cake.”

                Jesse laughed into his fist between bites of his dinner.

                “I can’t wait to hear it.”

                “And I can’t wait to show you,” Hanzo replied genuinely.

                They lingered in their cozy setup well after dinner and cake, contenting themselves with a lazy makeout session until Jesse grew too… _uncomfortable_ to continue. That seemed to be a cue for bed; Jesse carried Hanzo back in and within twenty minutes were settled in together under cover. Hanzo gave a contented sigh and kissed the curve of Jesse’s lower lip.

                “Thank you for today.”

                “I got kinda carried away.”

                “You wanted to tell me how you feel.” Hanzo replied and paused in consideration of how to continue. “There’s no shame in that, _anata._ ” He finished with the pet name almost at a whisper. Jesse’s face grew warm to the touch as Hanzo stroked his brow.

                “Wh-what’s that?” Jesse asked meekly. “Anata.”

                Hanzo couldn’t help a smile as Jesse pronounced it with those flat American vowels.

                “You,” he explained quietly. “Literally. ‘ _You.’_ It’s impolite to refer to anyone directly in Japanese. It’s generally understood and assumed by who I am speaking to that I am doing it. So in saying it as I am, it is pointing it out. _You_. Specific. To the exclusion of all others, and insistent in recognition of importance.”

                Hanzo felt more than heard the breath rush out of Jesse’s chest in overwhelmed reaction.

                “I love you,” Jesse gasped.

                “ _Daisuki_ ,” Hanzo replied, desperately grateful that this time, Jesse got to hear it.

~

                The next morning, Jesse allowed himself a lie-in with Hanzo and just after ten, Hanzo’s phone began buzzing on the nightstand. Puzzled, Hanzo gestured for it and both noticed Genji’s name on the screen before he answered.

                “Yes?”

                “Are you sitting down,” Genji opened without ceremony.

                “I haven’t stood on my feet for a fucking _week_ ,” Hanzo shot back, though worry tightened in his gut.

                “I got a call just now from Ad Noiseum. They have a new A&R guy.”

                Hanzo’s jaw slid open. A year and a half ago, they’d been invited out for a meeting to that particular label based in Tennessee and had been remarkably well-received, but ultimately told by the marketing rep that Hanzo didn’t have the quote-unquote _sound_ they were looking for at the time.

                “Genji,” Hanzo replied with deep and genuine warning.

                “I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t good, Hanzo. Apparently the producer we talked to has kept your old demo tape all this time and they got to talking.”

                “ _Genji_ ,” Hanzo repeated, voice faltering.

                “They want a meeting. I told them sure, and they said Monday at one.”

                It was Saturday. Hanzo wasn’t sure he was breathing anymore.

                “And you told them?”

                “I-I said give me an hour. I don’t know if you’re—"

                “ _Call them back and tell them yes._ ”

                “Okay. I’ll book tickets out of Sky Harbor for tomorrow,” Genji replied breathlessly and hung up.

                “Hanzo?” Jesse asked, a little concerned by the stunned look on his boyfriend’s face.

                “I have to go home. Fuck, _no_ , I have to go to the studio…wait, Genji will take care of that. _Wait, no he won’t,_ ” Hanzo said in rapid-fire and reopened his phone to text his brother instructions.

                “Hanzo, _what_ happened?”

                “A label we were rejected by over a year ago called out of the blue has asked Genji for a meeting. On Monday. Apparently the producer convinced the talent search rep to give us another chance. I have to go home and collect my notes and…and _pack_ , oh my god.”

                “ _Now?_ ”

                “ _Yes_ , now, I have too much shit to do,” Hanzo replied hotly and without thinking – his _time to work_ switch had flipped in half a breath and it was all he could think about. Only when he looked over, brow furrowed with frustration, to see Jesse’s hurt expression did he make himself slam on his mental breaks and reconsider. “Jesse, I…”

                “No, we’ll go, I just…let me take a shower,” Jesse replied with unconvincing neutrality.

                “ _Wait,_ wait,” Hanzo said as he reached to take Jesse’s hand and shook his head ruefully. “I’m sorry, Jesse. It doesn’t…doesn’t have to be this very second. The phone call fucked me up.”

                “Don’t think I ain’t excited for you,” Jesse urged.

                “No, I know that, I do. But that’s no excuse to snap at you.”

                Jesse nodded and did appear more genuinely relieved, but he bit his lip with lingering hesitation.

                “Are…are you _sure_ , Hanzo? You’re still on that buprenorphine patch. You ain’t even _tried_ puttin’ your braces on yet.”

                “Jesse, I can’t _not_ go. I _can’t_.”

                Jesse squeezed Hanzo’s hand and nodded.

                “Yeah, I know. Okay. Just…”

                “Genji’s coming with me. He won’t let me do anything rash, which truth be told, I am liable to do right now. I…Jesse, I _need_ this.”

                Goddamn, that tenacity was beautiful on him. Jesse leant over to give Hanzo a fierce kiss.

                “Then let’s get you home so you can go get it.”

                Monday came and passed with painful slowness for Jesse. Tuesday morning, he got a text from Hanzo – _we’re staying a couple more days –_ and no further detail, which for Jesse had necessitated a long ride out across the desert wilderness to de-escalate the panic attack that threatened to follow. Late in the afternoon Thursday, his phone rang while he was out with his ranch hands in the pasture. It was so unexpected in the quietude of the cooling tail end of the day, his horse was a little rattled by the noise and Jesse had to soothe down her neck to steady her as he answered.

                “Hey sweetheart,” Jesse greeted, suppressing as much of the anticipatory anxiety he felt from his voice as possible.

                “Jesse,” Hanzo opened. He had clearly been crying.

                “Jesus, Hanzo, are you—”

                “Listen. Are you home?”

                “I-I’m out in the pasture, but yeah.”

                “We’re ten minutes out.”

                “You’re…you’re back?”

                “Yeah,” Hanzo replied, and the tiny breath of relieved laughter as he spoke reversed all of Jesse’s fear and he sat bolt upright in his saddle. “Nothing…nothing’s signed yet, but…there’s a handshake agreement. The contract should arrive next week.” Hanzo was barely able to finish the sentence for his emotion.

                “Shit, don’t do that, you’re gonna make me cry if you keep that up,” Jesse replied as if his words weren’t already laden with tears of joy. “You did it, baby, you _did it._ ”

                Hanzo could only respond with a _yeah_ made almost unintelligible by abrupt sobbing.

                “I’ll head back to meet you, but you’re gonna beat me there, okay? Just…just wait for me.”

                Jesse hung up and hitched up his reins.

                “ _Eso fue Hanzo. Va a regresar a la casa. Tiene su contrato,”_ he explained to his expectant ranch hands watching him. He waved and took off at a gallop, chased by exultant cheers.

                The dust cloud announced Jesse even before he came over the ridge. Hanzo and Genji arrived well in time to watch him ride up at a fast trot from behind the barn, and he began dismounting even before bringing the horse to a complete stop a hundred feet short of the brothers. Jesse landed on his feet running and didn’t stop until he’d captured Hanzo in a massive hug; all Hanzo could offer as greeting was a broken call of Jesse’s name.

                “I’m so fucking proud of you,” Jesse whispered thickly into the side of Hanzo’s head as they held each other. He glanced over Hanzo’s shoulder at Genji, who looked about two seconds from completely losing it himself. “Both of you,” Jesse added, and that was all Genji could handle; he waved Jesse off and walked back towards the car to compose himself.

                “I still…I still can’t believe…” Hanzo rasped, balling Jesse’s flannel shirt into fists along his back. “They loved all my new tracks. We might be ready to release an album as soon as May.”

                “That’s amazing, Han.”

                They parted enough so they could look each other in equally red-rimmed eyes, and Hanzo grew newly upset.

                “I-I…Jesse, I’m sorry.”

                “Sorry, what’re you sorry for, baby?” Jesse asked, holding Hanzo’s face in his hands.

                “I almost didn’t. But I…I took our song to the meeting.”

                “You…you did?”

                “I wanted you to hear it first, but this happened so fast…I put so much into it, Jesse. I think it’s one of the best pieces I’ve ever written. It _had_ to go on my demo list. But it doesn’t have to be published, I _promise._ ”

                “No, it’s okay, I’m not mad.” Jesse couldn’t _possibly_ be angry with Hanzo in any measure today. “Did they like it?”

                “Yes,” Hanzo replied emphatically. “With some tweaking, they think it could be a hit. But I explained it was a very personal work and that I wasn’t sure I would publish it. What happens to it is up to you.”

                Jesse tilted his head aside and leant in to kiss him; Hanzo surprised him by yanking him down by the neck a _little_ harder than was necessary to make up the height difference. The desperation burned off with the release and the kiss grew languid, Hanzo’s arms twisting around Jesse’s neck as Jesse’s arms closed in a loose circle at the small of Hanzo’s back. Jesse wouldn’t be satisfied so easily and even when Hanzo backed off for a much-needed breath, he pressed a hard kiss to Hanzo’s brow for a long beat.

                “I love you,” Hanzo murmured.

                “I love you, too.”

                “Maybe I should go before you two get way out of hand.”

                Hanzo and Jesse both jumped a little at Genji’s voice.

                “No, it’s okay, I know you forgot I’m here, since you’re maybe two minutes from just fucking out here on the driveway, it’s fine,” Genji continued, though his attempt at lighthearted teasing was clouded by leftover emotional grit from his own, smaller breakdown.

                Hanzo turned and approached his brother, gracious enough to be a _little_ contrite.

                “Stay for dinner, at least.”

                Genji met him halfway and smiled as he planted both hands on Hanzo’s shoulders.

                “Honestly, Hanzo, all I want to do is go home, get _really_ fucking stoned, and play Call of Duty until I fall asleep at my computer.”

                “I can imagine.” Hanzo grew contemplative. “Genji—”

                “Yeah, I _know_ , Hanzo. ‘ _Thank_ _you_.’ You told me after we left, remember? You were crying like a baby and telling me I’m the best brother anybody could have? I recorded it on my phone and everything. It’s going on the blackmail flash drive for _sure,_ ” Genji replied, laughing at first, but his voice grew increasingly soft.

                Hanzo gave a single, emotional burble of laughter and pulled Genji in for a hug, which Genji met with aggressive eagerness.

                “It’s been a long four years,” Hanzo said.

                “Worth every fucking second,” Genji murmured.

                Jesse ambled up as the brothers split from their embrace and offered Genji a celebratory hug of his own.

                “Really, though. Come out for dinner some night. All three of us ain’t spent time together, and that should change.”

                “Yeah,” Genji agreed. He pat Jesse on the shoulder and retreated. “Okay, I’m gonna head out. You’ll bring Hanzo back to town?”

                “Yeah,” Jesse shrugged and cast his gaze around theatrically. “ _Eventually._ ”

                “You’re fucking _hilarious_.”

                They took just long enough to unload Hanzo’s bags from the trunk. Hanzo and Jesse waved goodbye to him from the porch as Genji wheeled around and headed for the highway. Once he was gone, they went back in the house hand in hand and wandered into the living room.

                “God, I missed you,” Jesse said.

                “I missed you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t keep in proper contact. Most of my days were in conference rooms and afterwards Genji and I sat in our dark hotel room and tried to convince each other this wasn’t going to end in disaster.”

                “Totally understandable. That’s how I spent most of my nights, too.”

                Hanzo sidled up to stand immediately in front of Jesse and ran his hands down Jesse’s sides to rest low on his hips.

                “Not tonight, though,” he purred.

                Jesse couldn’t help but giggle and dipped to kiss the tip of Hanzo’s nose.

                “Is that supposed to mean you’re feelin’ better?”

                “Yes. Even the flight home didn’t tire me out the way the flight to Tennessee did.”

                “Good,” Jesse said lowly, “Because you deserve something special.”

                Hanzo grinned.

                “What happened to dinner?”

                “I got frozen pizza. That’s all we’re gonna have energy for once I’m done.”

                That earned a desperate little sigh of need from Hanzo as he began unbuckling Jesse’s belt with a hard tug. Jesse lifted his chin with a finger to look up at him instead so he could tug gently at Hanzo’s lower lip with his teeth. That turned into an arc, first to tease the joint of Hanzo’s jaw and then to his pulse as Hanzo bared his neck for him. In the meantime, Hanzo continued what he started and unzipped Jesse’s jeans.

                “Then why are we wasting time out here?” Hanzo sniffed impatiently.

                “Y’know I gotta walk to our room, right?”

                Both of them fell still at the usage of the communal pronoun. Hanzo tried to recover first by dramatically shoving Jesse’s jeans off his hips and let them pool at his ankles.

                “Then walk.”

                Jesse pressed his lips together and tried very hard not to laugh.

                “Hanzo, sugar, that would be a _fantastic_ plan if I wasn’t still wearing my boots.”

                “Uh.”

                 “So I’m gonna sit down on the couch here and…untangle myself real quick,” Jesse continued with a cheeky wink.

                “I am a _fucking_ idiot,” Hanzo murmured and covered his face with his hands.

                Jesse couldn’t hold back anymore and laughed as he shuffled stupidly over to the sofa and threw himself onto it so he could start unlacing his boots.

                “Maybe, but you’re a cute one,” Jesse said as he continued giggling.

                All Hanzo could do is stand and wait – there was no point in all the production of unlocking his braces just for a few moments while Jesse sat properly undressing himself. His embarrassment faded as he considered what had made him be so impulsive in the first place.

                “It is, though, isn’t it?”

                “Hm?” Jesse said as he tugged off a boot.

                “Ours.”

                Again, Jesse stopped up short for a second as he held his other boot to pull it free.

                “I like to think it is, yeah. I know because of everything that, y’know, you have to keep the place in town, but…this is _your_ house too, if you want it.”

                “I want everything you’re willing to give,” Hanzo immediately replied.

                Now free of his boots, Jesse finished wiggling out of his jeans and stood to take Hanzo’s hands, uncaring of how silly he looked half-dressed and everything he’d taken off at a pile next to his feet.

                “Then it’s all yours. I told you there ain’t no piece of me you can’t have, right?”

                Hanzo leapt up into Jesse’s mouth, and Jesse could feel the tension in Hanzo’s face and the rest of his body from his sheer emotion.

                “Bed?” Jesse suggested at a hush when they parted.

                “Bed.”

                They left the clothes behind and made for their bedroom in patient stride; Hanzo was still in his braces and everything, after all.

                “All my rushing for nothing. That’s what I get for trying to be sexy and overwrought,” Hanzo said with a self-conscious smile. He sat down and began undoing the straps on his braces. “Someday I’ll learn my _rushing_ days are over.”

                “Maybe,” Jesse said, and stopped Hanzo from his work by standing in-between his legs and lifting his face with both hands. “Not a day you ain’t been sexy, though.”

                Hanzo kissed Jesse’s collarbone just visible underneath his shirt.

                “I love you.” He hadn’t been able to say it as much as he wanted since that perfect night on the porch together, but he’d dreamed about all the ways he wanted to every night he’d been apart from Jesse. Now, he could follow through on one iteration in particular.

                Hanzo pulled away to continue freeing his right leg, and Jesse took over the left without prompting. Once out of his braces, Hanzo slid himself fully onto the mattress. Each took a moment to strip themselves of their shirts before Jesse hopped into bed after Hanzo. Though Hanzo was still in his jeans, he ushered Jesse over to lay atop him.

                “How do you want me?” Hanzo murmured between kisses.

                “On your side. I want to have you. We ain’t done that yet.”

                “Yes, _please_. I was beginning to wonder.”

                “Call me selfish.”

                “And a little bit of a power bottom,” Hanzo teased.

                “ _Rude._ ”

                “How many times have you demanded ‘ _my fat cock’_ since we met, Jesse?”

                “I’m takin’ the Fifth.”

                “Good thing _demanding_ makes you irresistible,” Hanzo added lowly and drug his nails lightly down Jesse’s back. “But not quite yet, hm? I’ve hardly been able to even touch you for far too long, _anata._ ”

                “Of course. Long as you want.”

                Hanzo nudged Jesse off him so they could be on their sides – Hanzo lying on his right, Jesse on his left – and finish undressing fully. Hanzo pulled himself in and used Jesse for leverage to push himself down Jesse’s body a little so he could nuzzle into his body hair and kiss down his chest and torso. Jesse’s fingers untied Hanzo’s bun and buried them in his hair; as Jesse’s hands passed here and there across the top of his head, Hanzo could feel the callouses of Jesse’s palms against the closely-shaved sides of his scalp. Hanzo held Jesse from behind, alternating between squeezing the firm underside of his ass and dusting his teasing fingers up and down the cleft to make Jesse’s thighs shiver and squirm.

                He’d started at Jesse’s chest, nibbling and laving hard across his nipples, but as time stretched on he scooched his way down with adoring nips to eventually offer indirect attention to Jesse’s dick by kissing the base and huffing warm sighs into the pubic hair. Jesse involuntarily brought his knee up; Hanzo guided the leg to rest on his shoulder and took advantage of the opportunity to give wide-mouthed, soft bites on the insides of those thick thighs Hanzo loved _so_ well. Jesse’s fingers on Hanzo’s head began to grasp harder, scraping with a little bit of nails behind them. His languid sighs of Hanzo’s name began to sound a little pleading, too.

                “Help me up, Jesse.”

                They met eyes and Jesse got hold under Hanzo’s arms to slide him back up the mattress so they were face-to-face again. It made his biceps bulge out deliciously as a result, and Hanzo smoothed his hand appreciatively over the right arm.

                “Feelin’ reacquainted?” Jesse teased.

                “Yes, as long as _you_ feel properly adored,” Hanzo replied earnestly.

                Jesse let his desperate kiss answer for him.

                “Your turn. Roll over.” He slid back a little to give Hanzo some room, but his partner sat up instead and opened the nightstand drawer for their lube and a condom, before nestling in against Jesse’s chest.

                “Minimize the mess,” Hanzo explained.

                “Good idea.”

                The thought occurred to repeat the attention Hanzo had given him down Hanzo’s back himself, but Jesse traced a thumb down his spine, bumping along the ridges of surgery and grafting scars without any reaction until he spread his hand wide to cup and hold Hanzo’s ass, when he sighed contentedly.

                “You feel any of that, sugar?”

                “Oh, did you—No, I didn’t, Jesse, I’m sorry.”

                “No, it’s fine, just checking.”

                 Hanzo doled some lube out on Jesse’s open palm. Once done, he set it aside and helped Jesse spread it across his fingers as well as take the excess for himself with his right hand. Before Jesse could ask why, Hanzo preempted the question by reaching to tease his balls in tandem with Jesse’s fingers as they began petting his hole. Occasionally, their fingers would brush each other in their work and both men would shiver against each other.

                “Jesus, Hanzo. C’mon, baby, lean back into me.”

                When Jesse put more pressure into his circular passes, Hanzo moved up to pull at his dick and tease the underside of the darkened head.

                “Watch,” Hanzo panted.

                Jesse’s had to concentrate not to let his fingers curl too much inside as he full-body shuddered.

                “Oh, I am, _trust_ _me_.”

                In time, he opened for Jesse, and as he relaxed, Hanzo relinquished his cock entirely in favor of hitching up his own leg so Jesse would have better access and leverage.

                “You want it _real_ fuckin’ bad, don’t you?” Jesse rumbled, now three fingers deep and heavy-handed in his search for Hanzo’s prostate. Hanzo moved to answer, but Jesse’s touch landed true, cutting off his word in a long moan that made his tongue loll a little. The arm holding up his leg also strained to pull him open wider; Jesse let out a hot gasp of desperately-aroused surprise against the back of Hanzo’s neck.

                “Fuck, where’s that goddamn—” Jesse had lost track of it in his…concentration.

                Hanzo gave a low chuckle lifted his left forearm, holding the condom between his shivering fingers where he’d been keeping it.

                “Thank you, gorgeous,” Jesse said with a kiss to the joint of Hanzo’s jaw as he took it. He tore it open with his teeth and rolled it on. “A little more lube. I want to take you hard as I can.”

                “ _Jesse._ ”

                “That okay, baby?”

                “Yes. _Yes._ ”

                Hanzo snapped up the lube from where it had rolled down to rest against his chest and spread a healthy amount more onto Jesse’s open, slightly-shaking hand. Jesse slicked up his newly-covered dick and spread the rest clumsily around Hanzo’s asshole.

                “I got your leg. You ain’t gonna work for a _second._ ”

                Jesse took just long enough to line up and start pressing in before hitching up Hanzo’s leg for leverage, leaving a short trail of lube from his hand up Hanzo’s thigh. Hanzo loosed a low but enduring cry as Jesse took him and pulled him onto Jesse’s body so that Hanzo was pointed up at an angle almost fully-facing the ceiling. His hand, still damp with lube, flew back to take hold of Jesse’s hair in a fist. This was it, _exactly_ what Hanzo had dreamt of in his hotel room almost a thousand miles away from his heart and home in Tucson.

                “I love you. _Fuck me._ ”

                Jesse didn’t need telling twice, but his initial thrusts were deliberately softer than he wanted, just to test the waters, until Hanzo _pulled_ at his hair.

                “ _I told you to fuck me._ ”

                Jesse adjusted his grip to hold Hanzo steady against him right at the joint of his hip and bucked harder. Each heavy press inside earned a wheedling bleat; occasionally Jesse slid exactly right and Hanzo would fall completely silent, but his entire upper body trembled against Jesse’s torso. It made for a lot of work for Jesse, so he couldn’t concentrate enough to do much more than thrust, but on particularly overwhelming passes, he bit the base of Hanzo’s neck and held there rather than press too hard, and Hanzo could feel Jesse’s low grunts escape into his skin.

                Since they’d taken a rougher tack, both knew it wasn’t going to last terribly long, and when Hanzo’s hand melted away to touch himself again, Jesse picked up his pace. Just when Jesse was _sure_ he wouldn’t be able to hold out, Hanzo buckled in his hands and he knew his partner was climaxing. He managed to sputter out a call of Hanzo’s name before he came; Hanzo ate up the resulting shiver of Jesse’s overworked muscles where he could feel it on the right side of his back. His hips burned as Jesse let his thigh go; he was probably going to have a bit of a rough day tomorrow, but he just didn’t fucking care right now. This was _exactly_ what he wanted.

                Jesse pulled out and summoned the wherewithal to tie off the condom and actually throw it away recapturing Hanzo around his waist.

                “Everything okay?” Jesse asked at he pet up and down Hanzo’s torso.

                “Just fine. Spread and wrecked in all the right places.”

                Hanzo tried to turn, but could only manage so much with his limited rotation and physical exertion, so Jesse helped bring his hips around and re-settle his legs.

                “ _There_ he is,” Jesse sighed happily and stole a kiss. “My handsome rockstar.”

                “Shut up,” Hanzo replied with silly, giddy laughter.

                “Nope, not for a second. How else will everyone know I’m your number one groupie?”

                They giggled together, Hanzo facefirst and shy against Jesse’s chest. Too soon, Jesse felt Hanzo’s smile fade and tipped his head up to find him looking distracted and vaguely troubled.

                “What, Han?”

                “Do you…remember our bike ride out in the desert? What we talked about?”

                Jesse tensed. Yes, he _did_ remember.

                “About if you got signed. That everything would change. I remember sayin’ a lot could change in a year.”

                “You were right,” Hanzo replied as he rubbed his palm up and down Jesse’s chest. He was trying to smile, but wasn’t quite getting there.

                “All good, though,” Jesse countered and held Hanzo tighter against him. “Don’t worry about it, Hanzo. I wanted to make it work then, and I sure as _hell_ want it to now.”

                The emphatically determined tone eased Hanzo’s mind and he kissed Jesse’s throat in appreciation.

                “Part of the handshake agreement is one week a month spent in Tennessee for recording time with producers. The rest, I can work on my own time here in Tucson and stay in contact through email. I told them about you, and that my life with you is non-negotiable. When...when a tour becomes more probable, I made it clear _they_ are going to have to budget for your transport.”

                “Holy _shit_ , Hanzo.”

                “I don’t expect you to come with the whole time, Jesse. I would never ask that. But you’re not going to pay to come out and see me when I am away.”

                Jesse buried his face in Hanzo’s sex-mussed hair and let out a shaky sigh.

                “I know,” Hanzo continued without prompting, and his voice had gone a little ragged. “It’s real. I keep having to remind myself.”

                “I told you already, but I am so. Fucking. _Proud_ of you.”

                “Be proud of yourself, too. You had a lot to do with this I can’t possibly articulate.”

                His own words gave Hanzo pause. Maybe he could.

                “Jesse, can…can you go get my backpack and your laptop?”

                Jesse sat up, clearly confused, but nodded.

                “Yeah, sure thing, sweetheart.”

                After hopping back into his briefs and some sweatpants, he fetched his laptop from his office and nabbed Hanzo’s backpack on his return trip off the sofa. Hanzo gestured for the backpack, and once in-hand, began digging in one of the front pockets.

                “What’s all this for?” Jesse asked.

                Hanzo procured a flash drive and held it up.

                “It’s on here. Our song.”

                Jesse’s gut did a backflip. He reclaimed his spot next to Hanzo and opened his laptop. Hanzo passed off the flash drive and Jesse couldn’t plug it in fast enough. The menu opened to lots of files, some formats he couldn’t open, but a list of mp4s along the bottom.

                “The second one, Jesse.”

                “A…a place to start?” Jesse asked, reading the title, and Hanzo returned a clearly-nervous nod.

                The song was more upbeat than most of Hanzo’s previous work, but had the same, richly-layered guitar work that was his signature. Hanzo’s voice cut in with lyrics about change and new beginnings, and Jesse’s eyes immediately turned glassy. When the chorus started and he caught the strains of his own piano playing mingled with Hanzo’s voice, he truly began to cry. Hanzo scrambled for his hand and Jesse used his free one to swipe aside tears. _This_ was how Hanzo had wanted to explain his feelings. The simple words he’d told him, profound as they had been that night on the porch, were dwarfed by the lingering three-quarter beats and gut-punch accidental flats Hanzo had written from the very depths of his heart.

                “Hanzo, it’s beautiful,” he struggled, sniffling. “I fucking love it.”

                “I-I’m glad,” Hanzo said, clearly unsure what to do with Jesse’s tears. “Did you hear yourself in there?”

                Jesse could only nod his affirmation and had to take a very deep breath.

                “That…that’s a lot to keep all to yourself, sweetheart.”

                Hanzo pulled Jesse over to kiss the side of his head, close to breaking down himself.

                “I won’t anymore, _anata._ ”

                “Publish it.”       

                Hanzo went very still.

                “Jesse, are—”

                “Do it, publish it. I want _everyone_ to know.”

                Jesse’s laptop slid off his legs and fell on the floor for how quickly he turned and met Hanzo in a long, tear-streaked kiss.

~

                Genji let out a heavy sigh and hefted the box in his arms. This was supposed to be an exciting day, and once set up, he would probably enjoy it the way he was supposed to, but in the meantime, his brother was being a _massive_ pain in the ass. He tromped up to La Tumba’s door, ready to fight with the sticking hinges, and nearly fell over when the door opened of its own accord and he found Jesse looking at him

                “Thought you’d need a hand,” Jesse said as he stopped the door from closing with a foot and held out his arms to take the box filled with CDs.

                “Thanks. I think your time might be better spent making sure Hanzo doesn’t have a meltdown, though.”

                “If he’s gonna have one, we can’t stop him. All we can do is catch him after it happens.”

                “You’re right, but _shit._ ”

                It was May – just three weeks from the one-ear anniversary of the day Hanzo and Jesse had first met at La Tumba – and they were setting up for a concert-slash-album-release party at the bar. Already, Hanzo was obsessing over every little thing and getting snappy. As Jesse carried the box to the table they’d put just off the stage, he found his partner above, wrestling with some knotted cables and threatening it with some vicious-sounding Japanese.

                “Hey, sweet pea, maybe—” Jesse began as he slid the box under the table.

                “ _I’ve got it,_ ” Hanzo snapped.

                Jesse put his hands up in a show of deference and approached him sitting up on-stage.

                “You don’t, Han. Take a breath.”

                Hanzo bent forward to put his head to his knees, with his hands clutching the cables stuck out in front of him. His backing band – a new and terrifying addition now that he was professionally publishing – would be arriving in a couple hours for sound testing and he was _nowhere_ near ready. He’d interviewed them extensively and practiced with them for several weeks beforehand, but this was their first public performance. What if he’d chosen poorly? What if _he_ _himself_ got something wrong during the concert?

                Jesse hopped up and gently took everything away so he could hold Hanzo’s hands.

                “It’s gonna be fine. You’ve been lookin’ forward to this for weeks.”

                Hanzo slowly sat up and shook his head.

                “Aren’t I the one usually talking _you_ down from a panic attack?”

                “I ain’t the one puttin’ music into wide release, am I?”

                Hanzo conceded that with a small nod but glanced over at Jesse.

                “You kind of are, a bit.”

                Jesse returned a wide smile.

                “Point taken, sugar. Want to go hide in the bathroom and freak out about it together?”

                Hanzo squeezed Jesse’s hands and brought them up to kiss them.

                “It’s appealing, but I suppose we should set up the merch table instead.”

                The rest of the afternoon passed in much the same way: progress, a mishap, a meltdown, patient reassurance, repeat. Less than an hour before opening, Ana snuck her way in the rear receiving door and was immediately met by Hanzo and Jesse, holding each other in the muted quiet of the dark hallway backstage.

                “Quite a line outside,” Ana said, but was immediately cut off by Jesse with an aggressive swipe of his hand towards his neck, mouthing _no_.

                “Oh, a line. Excellent. A fine crowd to watch my complete folly and wasted life and effort.”

                “ _Hanzo_ ,” Jesse sighed exasperatedly before burying his face in his partner’s hair.

                Ana came up behind Hanzo and offered a gentle, reassuring touch of her own.

                “Do you need an opening act? I’m a fifth-degree black belt in Taekwondo, you know. I can kick a stack of shot glasses off of Gabe’s bald head one by one. Warm up the crowd.”

                “ _Mom_ ,” Jesse replied, but couldn’t keep himself from breaking out in a fit of giggles. Thankfully, even Hanzo wasn’t too lost to despair to begin laughing as well. Ana patted Hanzo on the back and nodded.

                “Better?” she asked.

                “Yes,” Hanzo replied with a relieved smile, but his voice was still a bit strained.

                “You’re thinking too hard about the moment before. It’s the moment _after_ that makes all this worthwhile. You know that.”

                Hanzo’s shoulders squared with actual confidence and he let out an aggressive sigh.

                “I do.”

                “There you go. Wait until I have my first bourbon for another pep talk, hm?” Ana gave him a wink and took a beat to pass a steadying brush down Jesse’s jaw as well before taking off for the bar.

                “She’s very, very good,” Hanzo said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

                “The best. You should see her work with people on her night shifts.”

                “I suppose when you work in the ER, all other crisis is relative.”

                “Yep. But she’s right. You know how to do this. Just because it’s bigger don’t mean it changes what you do.”

                Hanzo gave Jesse an openly-adoring look and embraced him once more for a grounding kiss.

                “Thank you. _Again_.”

                “Always, sweetheart.” Jesse slapped Hanzo on the ass. “Go bring the house down.”

                Despite all the pep talks and hugs and affection, Jesse had been fighting off a whole-ass meltdown of his own all day and was keeping it together purely for Hanzo. It was part of the reason he’d hovered nearby all afternoon; when he’d been left to himself for any extended period of time, he would get shaky and stare off into nothing until somebody startled him out of it. When he left Hanzo to let him finish final preparations, his fingers were trembling even before he took the seat saved for him at the bar. Sombra slid him a Corona without prompting and offered a theatrical wink. Since doors had opened, a generous crowd had come in and it was nearly standing room only.

                Jesse’s third sip was abruptly interrupted by hands holding his shoulders from behind; he turned to find Genji, who was wild-eyed and staring off at the stage.

                “This is fine. Everything’s fine. Right?”

                “Truth be told, Genji, I’m the last fuckin’ person on Earth to ask that right now,” Jesse replied with a shaky breath of laughter.

                “Damn it, Jesse, just…tell me it’s fine.”

                “It’s fine, Genji.”

                “ _Totally_ fine,” Sombra added, snickering.

                “I’m gonna _make_ it fine by lockin’ your stupid asses up in the office if you say that fuckin’ word one more time,” Gabe growled, but he was clearly nervous, too.

                “Sorry, Gabe,” Jesse said.

                “Yeah,” Genji added.

                Gabe tightened his shoulders up to his ears and let his stress go in a heavy sigh.

                “It’s f—” Gabe pulled a face and stopped himself at the brink just in time, but no good, all five of his compatriots, Jesse to Genji to Ana to Jack to Sombra, burst out laughing.

                “Moron,” Jack teased, elbowing his husband even as Gabe ducked his head grumpily into Jack’s neck for respite.

                They were interrupted by the backing band taking the stage, which earned a smattering of excited noises and clapping. A few moments later, Hanzo appeared with his electric guitar to much more animated cheering. Jesse cut over the crowd with a pitched whistle he usually saved for calling Smokey and Bandit out at pasture, which made Genji balk and swear inaudibly for its impressiveness. Hanzo offered a sedate little wave and tiny, overwhelmed smile at the show of appreciation. The crowd died down and he approached the mic.

                “Good evening. Thank you very much for coming tonight. It’s…humbling.”

                Hanzo chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment in contemplation before continuing.

                “When we started making plans for this album release, I was asked what my ideal venue would be, and I immediately knew it couldn’t be anywhere _but_ here, even if it was a smaller capacity.”

                “Hey!” Gabe shouted with a wide grin, earning titters of laughter from the crowd and an apologetic shrug from Hanzo on stage.

                “There are few single locations and moments anybody can say have irrevocably changed their life for the better, but this place is one for me. It wouldn’t be understatement to say my heart and home are here, which is an incredible thing for me to say in the space of just a year. I owe an unpayable debt of gratitude to the people within these walls: the staff, my friends, you all here watching.”

                Hanzo strummed his guitar once and gathered his wits and courage. He met eyes with Jesse across the room, like he had dozens of times before all the way back to those first, shy weeks trying not _to_ notice and yet _be_ noticed all at once.

                “And one more. The subject of the first song tonight from my new album. My light, my muse. This is all for you, Jesse. I love you.”

                Hanzo counted off beats and “A Place to Start” came to life in a wall of sound.

                Jesse thought he was going to have a heart attack. Maybe just pass out. It was hard to tell. As the initial crash of overwhelming surprise passed, he scanned the crowd. Several couples circled arms around each other and shared a private smile. The whole of the crowd took to swaying unevenly, heads and shoulders creating a makeshift sea-like silhouette. The band arrived at the first iteration of the chorus and Hanzo backed off the mic to let his keyboardist play the part he’d written for Jesse all those months ago; even from where Jesse sat, he could see the momentary flash of wistfulness in Hanzo’s downcast eyebrows. The silent wish that Jesse was up there with him playing instead. It passed in half a beat and Hanzo resumed singing, but with greater and raw power driven by the emotion.

                “Now you know why I ripped the setlist off the floor when you walked by earlier,” Genji said right at his ear, so he was audible over the music. “He wanted it to be a surprise—whoa, _Jesse._ ”

                Jesse didn’t reply; he’d abruptly fallen apart sobbing into his hands, elbows on the bar. Looking away did nothing to ease the potency of the song continuing on around and seemingly _through_ him. Ana turned in her seat to reach for Jesse’s knee and put her hand there soothingly.

                “What the _hell_ ,” Sombra said, carefully controlling her tone as it threatened to crack and delicately traced a long, lacquered nail under one eye threatening to water and _ruin_ her eyeliner as she witnessed Jesse breaking down. “You fucking _sap_ , McCree.”

                “Holy shit, I-I…” Genji stuttered, completely at a loss. He thought maybe he’d get a big gasp out of Jesse, but not… _this._

                “What did you _think_ was gonna happen, kid?” Gabe snarked. “Come on in back, Jesse.”

                “No, not yet,” Jesse gasped, waving Gabe off. “The rest…I have to hear the rest.”

                Hanzo would be looking for him when the song ended; Jesse wouldn’t dare let his boyfriend down to simply disappear during something so important, no matter how moved he was. The chorus came around twice more, and each time Jesse broke up all over again. By the time the song ended, he was a blotchy mess. The people nearest to them in the crowd had taken notice and realized he was the _Jesse_ that Hanzo had been referring to – a few offered sweet, knowing smiles that made Jesse both want to crawl underneath the desk in the office and never come out again as well as climb onto the bar and scream in exultation. The two halves of his life, pre- and post-Hanzo, secrecy and overt joy, were fighting it out in his chest and he was rapidly losing the ability to cope.

                As Jesse expected, soon as the last beat landed, Hanzo was staring out into space for him, and Jesse made sure he was ready for it. It was fleeting – Hanzo probably wouldn’t even be able to see how thoroughly he’d wrecked Jesse given the lights in his face – but it was enough and soon as it happened, Hanzo moved on to the opening riff of his next song and turned to his bassist with a huge grin.

                That was Jesse’s cue; he immediately got up and circled around to come behind the bar. Ana followed and Gabe met him at the door, holding it open. Genji appeared genuinely worried, so Jesse paused for a second to reach for his arm.

                “It’s okay, totally okay,” Jesse explained past the lingering lump in his throat. “I just need a minute.”

                “Yeah, all right,” Genji replied and sat, still looking a little chastened.

                Once the din of the music was dulled by the swing door, Jesse lost control of himself anew. Hanzo _loved_ him. Had told a couple _hundred_ people he wrote a song _just_ for Jesse.

                “I love that stupid fuckin’ son of a bitch so much.”

                Ana wrapped him up in a hug. She couldn’t help recalling the last time she’d held Jesse when he’d been so completely undone, for far less happy reasons.

                “I told you someday you’d find what you needed.”

                “Yeah,” Jesse sniffed. He gave her one heavy squeeze before pulling away. Gabe took the opportunity to reach across Jesse’s shoulders and pull them together.

                “Sure you’re okay?” he asked gruffly.

                “Yeah, I am. I didn’t mean to lose it like that,” Jesse sighed, staring up at the ceiling to try and cut off his tears. Ana stepped away to soak a fresh dishtowel with cold water and offered it to her son to ease the swelling around his eyes. “Thanks, mom.”

                Jesse had cried many times in this kitchen for all kinds of reasons, good _and_ bad. But every time, either Ana or Gabe or Jack had been there, and he couldn’t even begin to describe the gratification he felt knowing that growing out of his previously-shitty circumstances hadn’t meant giving up either of their patience, watchful presences. They weren’t just former custodians; they were _parents._

                Within ten minutes, Jesse had finally calmed down and was relatively confident he could be seen in public again when a muffled exchange caught his, Ana’s, and Gabe’s attention. Genji had appeared _behind_ the bar, and he and Jack were gesticulating at each other through the door’s little window. Jack held it open to the kitchen for him, looking confused, and Genji all but threw himself in with something just shy of panic. Once the door shut behind them, Sombra peeked into view, watching the proceedings with _vivid_ interest.

                “Jesse, I’m sorry, I—”

                “I said I ain’t mad, Genji, why—”

                “No, _listen._ I need your help. You gotta understand, I didn’t think this would happen. I didn’t think he’d show. We talked about it like a month ago and he said he wasn’t sure he could get away and then he didn’t mention it again.”

                “The hell are you talkin’ about?”

                “Dad. _Dad is here. **He just walked in.**_ ”

                All the flush from crying seemed to immediately drain from Jesse’s face to match Genji’s pale fear.

                “Your… _Sojiro?_ All the way from fuckin’ _Japan?_ ”

                “Hanzo is gonna fucking kill me. I _swear to you_ this isn’t supposed to be a surprise,” Genji sputtered. “I wouldn’t do that to him _or_ you.”

                “Has he seen you?”

                “No. That’s why I almost knocked Jack over getting in here.”

                “I’m fine, by the way,” Jack sighed.

                “Ha! Now I’ll lock _you_ in the office!” Gabe cut in victoriously and pointed at Jack; Ana swatted his arm down and rolled her eyes.

                “ _Focus_ , Gabriel.”             

                “It’s do or die, Jesse,” Genji continued. “I can’t just leave him out there by himself. He’s going to come looking, and he _will_ ask questions. Might as fucking well.”

                “Shit. _Shit._ I…I been fuckin’ _crying_ , Genji, I—”

                “You look great. Don’t worry about it.” Nothing in Genji’s panicky tone suggested he believed literally anything of what he just said. “Look, I’ll stay with you once I come back, Jesse. He…might need some prompting to open up at _all._ He isn’t gonna look it, but I _guarantee_ he’s just as freaked-out as you,” Genji said, and left to head back out and find his father.

                “He’s right,” Ana said. “You’ll be fine.”

                “I don’t have much of a _choice_ , do I?” Jesse said, voice a little pitched with skittishness.

                They did, and for far too many seconds, that left Jesse alone in the suddenly and oppressively quiet kitchen. He was shaken from his empty staring by Genji’s voice.

                “ _Douzo. Hai.”_

                The door swung open and Genji came through first, holding it for his father. No wonder Genji had found him so quickly – Sojiro would _easily_ stand out from the crowd in his impeccably crisp and severe pinstripe suit coupled with his absolutely rigid bearing. It didn’t fit the ambiance, but Jesse could tell Sojiro’s intent was to dress to the nines for such a special occasion, which warmed his heart in spite of his still-lingering fear. Jesse had to confess being knocked back a bit by how thoroughly Hanzo favored his father, now that Jesse was meeting him. They might as well be carbon copies, though Sojiro’s chin and cheekbones had softened and rounded from age that Hanzo himself had not yet achieved, and Sojiro did not keep any kind of facial hair.

                The Shimada patriarch stepped in and past his younger son; Genji dutifully took up post behind and off to the right, out of his father’s visual range to offer Jesse an encouraging, if wincing, thumbs-up.

                “You are McCree,” Sojiro greeted; his accent was thicker still than Hanzo and Genji’s, but his enunciation was so precise Jesse was sure the words alone could slice through steel.

                “I am, sir, yes. Jesse McCree,” Jesse answered and extended a hand to shake. “Your son told you about me?” he asked, careful not to presume just _which_ son, just in case. Sojiro met his handshake and returned it with firm, but hardly threatening, grip.

                “Genji has, yes. He speaks very well of you.”

                “Well I…” Jesse and Genji held eyes for a moment and he tried to say _thank you_ with his gaze. “I’m glad to hear that.”

                Silence followed and quickly grew awkward. Jesse offered a discomfited _um_ and Genji scrunched his face tight from stress.

                “Tell me about yourself,” Sojiro broke in again with surprising hesitance. “Where did you attend school?”

                Both Genji and Jesse’s eyes went very wide with new and hotter fear.

                “I-I didn’t, sir. Just…just high school.”

                “I see.”

                Two words had _never_ felt so incredibly damning.

                “I-It wasn’t in the cards for me at the time like it was for most kids. I’ve considered going back now that I make good money, but my time is pretty well taken up running the ranch. I’d have trouble making it work.”

                “Running? The business is yours?’ Sojiro asked, tilting his head minutely.

                “Oh! Uh, yes, it is. I bought it off the previous proprietor, who was my boss at the time, three years ago. Gave him twenty thousand dollars of my own money and the rest of the value was a loan I’ll probably finish paying off in a little less than ten years, long as the herd does well for me.”

                Again, Sojiro didn’t immediately speak further, and Jesse was pretty certain he was slowly dissolving into the floor.

                “You purchased it from him? I was not aware you were the owner. _Sou, sou._ Good. _Quite_ good.”

                “ _Nante—”_ Genji whispered, but he immediately cut himself off, despite looking floored.

                Sojiro cleared his throat knowingly and Genji snapped to, though his shock was still evident in his eyes.

                “May we speak later, McCree? I…would like to see Hanzo perform. I have not seen him play at all since he emigrated,” Sojiro asked.

                “O-oh, of course, sir, no problem. Go ahead.”

                “Good. I look forward to it. I’m glad to meet you at last.”

                “The…the pleasure’s mine, sir.”

                A microscopic crack of a smile broke across Sojiro’s face and he offered a slight bow of just his head before turning around to head back out to the bar. Genji stayed in place until the door creaked shut and Sojiro reappeared on the other side of the bar.

                “What the _fuck_ ,” Genji wheezed.

                “What, _what,_ ” Jesse hissed, pulling Genji over towards the sink and out of sight.

                “He likes you. Holy shit. _Quite_ good, he _said_ that.”

                “Not exactly an overwhelming endorsement to me,” Jesse said dubiously.

                “Then you weren’t listening, shut the fuck up,” Genji replied, distracted. He folded his hands in front of his face as he considered what he’d just heard. “Hanzo’s gonna flip his shit. In a _good_ way. This is _way_ better than I expected. I’m an idiot for not telling him you _run_ the ranch.”

                “Does…does that make up for not having a degree?”

                “Yeah. See, you get it better than you think.”

                “But…why doesn’t he believe Hanzo can support himself with his music?”

                Genji let out a frustrated sigh.

                “He _does._ Don’t let Hanzo convince you dad looks down on all this. Hanzo’s stuck thinking he’s doing _second-best_ in dad’s eyes, and that isn’t fucking _true._ Dad wanted him to pursue music to find a fucking reason to _live_ , not as a consolation prize. That doesn’t mean Hanzo doesn’t _also_ deserve to have someone financially stable and productive in his life, does it, dumbass?”

                “Shit, good point. How does Hanzo not understand that?”

                “ _You_ just met dad. I promise you, the awkward silences don’t improve.”

                “Okay, then, how are _you_ so sure that’s what he thinks?”

                “Because Hanzo wasn’t _there,_ ” Genji replied angrily, but reeled in his aimless aggression with a sigh. “I mean he was, but not _conscious_ or _lucid._ He didn’t see what it did to me _or_ dad. He didn’t have the talks we did while he was in a fucking medically-induced _coma._ By the time Hanzo came out of the surgeries and drugs and was able to have even _half_ of a conversation, dad had adjusted and re-learned how to…do what he does, keep it all wrapped up inside himself. Hanzo does it, too, I know you’ve seen it. And at the time, that was probably the right thing to do. Hanzo was…he was…”

                Genji’s eyes stared off into nothing for a little too long as he recalled the memories.

                “He couldn’t possibly have dealt with…knowing what _we_ were dealing with. Dad watched mom die and then watched his son swing between life, death, and quadriplegia for _months._ He doesn’t give a shit about _appearances_ anymore. All he wants is for Hanzo to be _happy_ and have a _life._ ”

                “Oh,” Jesse replied quietly, chastened.

                “Yeah, _oh_.”

                “Sorry.”

                Genji let the last of his upset go and held up his hands in surrender.

                “No, Jesse…it’s all right. More all right than I ever thought it would be ever again,” Genji added as he grew reflective. He shook himself and rubbed at his brow. “But Hanzo still needs somebody to break the news after the show. That’s gotta be me.”

                “Are you sure?” Jesse asked.

                “Yeah. I can get him to understand that dad’s pleased. _You_ can deal with all the comedown afterwards.”

                “Okay, fair,” Jesse chuckled. “And…Genji?”

                “What?”

                “Thank you. For everything. Your help means…a lot to me.”

                Genji shrugged with feigned disaffection and fiddled with the collar on his dress shirt.

                “What’re brothers for?” he said nervously before taking off for the door, leaving Jesse gobsmacked and newly emotional.

                Later on, backstage, Hanzo couldn’t imagine a better feeling than right now. He was _sure_ he could kick the back door open and run a mile, he felt so high and unstoppable. The show had been a massive success and his new backing band had gelled _perfectly_. He was ecstatic to consider the solo and improv possibilities later on during his…his _tour._ He had to stop on his way out of the tiny green room to compose himself. When he got a good hold on his rationality again, he stepped outside and was met with Genji, who was…smiling, but…not right. It wasn’t genuine, or at least not completely.

                “Hey,” Genji opened, lingering far too long on the y sound.

                “Genji? What’s wrong?”

                “Nothing! Nothing’s wrong, not a thing. You were incredible, the groupies will throw themselves at your feet—”

                “ _Genji._ ”

                “Dad’s here.”

                Hanzo had to involuntarily reach out and steady himself on Genji, who took him by the shoulders hard in real worry Hanzo was about to tip over in his braces for the shock.

                “ _One_ more fucking time,” Hanzo rasped.

                “Dad is here. I didn’t plan it. He showed up on his own, you _have_ to believe me, Hanzo.”

                Hanzo _wished_ he could scrape together the wherewithal to swear in English the way Jesse did. Wait—

                “ _Jesse.”_

                “Already done,” Genji cut in, shaking Hanzo a bit by the shoulders to ensure he had Hanzo’s attention. His brother had gone distressingly pale. “It’s totally okay. He…he likes Jesse, Hanzo. Like for real.”

                “You can’t _possibly_ be sure of that.”

                “Jesse told dad he owns the ranch. Dad said _quite_ good.”

                Hanzo’s eyes snapped up to look right through Genji’s head and seemingly into his soul.

                “Is that a _direct_ quote?”

                “To the fucking tee. Including emphasis.”

                One of Hanzo’s hands flew up to cover his mouth. This was a _lot_ to take in in the space of seconds.

                “He likes Jesse,” Hanzo murmured to himself in wonder.

                “They’ve been talking since you finished. I think dad _laughed_ at one of Jesse’s jokes.”

                Hanzo’s eyes slammed shut and creased with strain.

                “Did…did he like the concert?” Hanzo asked quietly.

                Genji released his worried grip on his brother and pulled in close to rub his back.

                “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”

                The bar was already half-empty; Hanzo had taken his time after his set removing his makeup and changing his clothes. Gabe was already stalking the edge of the room, preparing to herd the stragglers out, as they had planned for a friends-and-family-only dinner afterward as a smaller, more personal celebration. Genji and Hanzo found Sojiro over at the merchandise table, perusing the offerings, but Genji stopped walking and shook his head at his brother as cue that this was something Hanzo would have to do himself.

                “Father,” Hanzo said as he walked over. Sojiro immediately looked up and when he set eyes on his eldest son, the angular passive aggression in his face softened considerably.

                “There you are.” Sojiro lifted a copy of Hanzo’s new album as example. “I…need one.”

                “You hardly need to pay,” Hanzo replied hastily.

                “Gracious.” Sojiro’s small, teasing smile eased Hanzo’s overclocked brain from its knee-jerk assumption that his father’s words were backhanded. “Let’s hope it is the first of many. I have plenty of space.”

                “Space?” Hanzo asked, confused.

                Sojiro drew his mouth into a thin line as he stared down at the jewel case in his hand rather than his son.

                “My office wall. Your first two CDs’ artwork are displayed there. This one will join it. Genji sent me the tracks themselves soon as you were finished. I have had those for weeks.”

                “You…you have?”

                “Yes.” Sojiro appeared emboldened by Hanzo’s visible surprise and appreciation; he nodded to himself in some kind of internalized agreement. “Genji told me when this release party would be as soon as it was decided. When he did, I lied to him and said I wasn’t sure if I would be traveling, and I didn’t bring it up again. I came here unannounced.”

                “Why?”

                “Because I didn’t want you to… _prime_ _yourself_ for me.”

                “I-I…”

                “There are many, _many_ words between us we do not speak, and I decided this would be the correct opportunity to rectify it. I owe you that.” Sojiro continued over Hanzo’s stuttering, not out of aggression but nervous insistence on momentum, lest inertia make his hesitance return. He straightened and habitually smoothed the front of his suit. “You were excellent tonight, Hanzo. I am…very glad you used my suggestion of emigrating to create something you are passionate about, even if that means I rarely get to see it.”

                Hanzo gibbered and stared at the floor.

                “I know you thought I was attempting to put distance between us. And I suppose I was, but not willingly. You seemed to have nothing left at home. You didn’t _want_ anything or anyone, including me and Genji.”

                Hanzo’s face fell, and he opened his mouth to object, but nothing came. His father was right.

                “Father, I…that was a mistake on my part.”

                Sojiro’s face lit in a melancholy smile.

                “You never would have come to understand that at home. And I never would have understood your need to remake yourself without me. We were suspended, the three of us. Stuck on that day. So when I came to you with the suggestion of going to America, it was in desperation. If I were in your place, I would have struck out alone, too. Let myself find rock bottom and put together something new. And you have.”

                Hanzo followed Sojiro’s gaze past him to land on Jesse as he and Genji were putting tables back in place for everyone to sit at and eat. Jesse peeked up and noticed father and son were staring, so he shrugged mock-casually and offered a cheesy smile. Hanzo gave him a tiny reassuring nod and had to turn back to his father again to hide his eyes welling up.

                “You are living. That is all I have _ever_ wanted, and I have always struggled to explain. I could not cope with the possibility of watching what happened to your mother repeat ad nauseum. The…decline. At least _she_ knew it was finite.”

                “She was braver than me,” Hanzo blurted and put a hand to his chest as it grew weighted with sorrow. “I couldn’t manage as well as she did, living with the change. What it meant. And I…said so many things to you and Genji that I regret because of my ineptitude. I shamed her memory and…and your sacrifices.”

                “The toll taken on us is no one’s fault, Hanzo.”

                Hanzo recalled Jesse’s rebuttal the night they’d gone to Ermanos. _My bike, my stupidity._ Jesse’s insistence that all of it didn’t incur existential fault. Perhaps not, but he’d still made so, so many mistakes someone like him, living on the grace of a lucky second chance, should _never_ feel the hubris to make. He’d so very nearly lost _every_ opportunity for _anything_ and spent years wasting it.

                “I told you I wished I’d _died._ That…there’s no excuse for that,” Hanzo sputtered. “After everything you’d been through and done to help me. I was…a _misanthrope_ , and for no good reason.”

                Sojiro appeared stricken, though its severity only made itself known in a deep frown in his normally-even expression.

                “Trauma needs no reason, and whatever the past, you have grown past it far more than I ever would have dared to hope for. Your mother would be _exceptionally_ proud of you. She loved your piano, remember?”

                “Yes,” Hanzo said weakly, covering his face with a hand.

                “I saw her joy in you tonight while you performed. This is where you always should have been, Hanzo. She tried to tell me when you were young, but I insisted your musical skill could be just as valuable as a hobby, and I was wrong,” Sojiro explained haltingly as his voice grew thick as well. “I will endeavor to make up for my mistake and your mother’s absence as you continue your career. This is, without a doubt, your place.”

                It was too difficult for Hanzo to reply. Even if it was for a good reason, he really _didn’t_ want to cry in front of all these people. He bit his lip and took a breath to try and steady himself. A hand at the small of his back made him start.

                “Jack’s getting ready to bring—shit, Han, what…what’s wrong? Look at me, sugar.”

                Sojiro watched Jesse with keen eyes; instantly, it was as if everyone else in the room – even Sojiro – no longer existed and all his attention was poured into Hanzo under his arm. Jesse reached up to pet aside tear streaks and Hanzo appeared powerless to stop the show of affection, despite the potential of embarrassing himself. The world grew very small indeed when the two of them were together, but it was _theirs_ , and that was all Sojiro needed to know about this new chapter of his son’s life.

                “Don’t worry,” Sojiro reassured, though his voice was still gritty. “We are finished.”

                “We’re _not_ ,” Hanzo replied forcefully, making both his father and his partner balk. “Father, you should…we are setting for dinner, and I am certain Jack has made plenty of food for one more. Please, we…we have much more to go over. And you must meet everyone.”

                “Yeah, absolutely. I hope there wasn’t any doubt you’d be welcome,” Jesse added, worried.

                “If that isn’t an imposition. I…apologize for arriving unannounced,” Sojiro replied stiffly, but Jesse waved him off with a smile.

                “That ain’t ever mattered in my family. Kind of a theme, to be honest. We just show up one day. Good?” He asked, looking down at his boyfriend for genuine permission.

                “Yes. Perfect,” Hanzo replied with a twinge of disbelief. He scrubbed at his eyes before linking his left hand with Jesse’s and inviting Sojiro towards the table with his right. “Come sit, we’re keeping everyone waiting.”

 

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Cait's final artist submission: the dinner and cake on the porch!

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